


All you never knew you wanted

by BlushLouise



Series: All you never knew you wanted [1]
Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Developing Relationship, Difficult Pregnancy, Discussion of Abortion, Eating Disorders, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mech Preg (Transformers), Misunderstandings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self Confidence Issues, Slow Burn, Spark Sexual Interfacing (Transformers), relationship difficulties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 68,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22700308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushLouise/pseuds/BlushLouise
Summary: One night of comfort leads to major consequences, and now Trailbreaker has to figure out how to care for both himself and a sparkling. Lucky for him, a certain young medic won't let him do so alone.
Relationships: First Aid/Trailbreaker (Transformers), Hound/Mirage (Transformers), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Ratchet/Sideswipe/Sunstreaker, Smokescreen/Trailbreaker, Wheeljack/Bluestreak
Series: All you never knew you wanted [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832152
Comments: 752
Kudos: 387





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story won my Twitter poll for Valentine's posting, so here you go! I'll try for weekly posting, at least until I panic and run out of buffer chapters XD

He felt… sore.

It wasn’t quite what he had expected. Then again, nothing that happened last night had been as expected.

He turned in surprise at the gentle touch of a finger, running across his windshield and down the central seam of his chest.

“Hey.” Smokescreen grinned and looked up at him.

“You stayed,” Trailbreaker replied, still surprised.

“Well, yeah. You didn’t throw me out, so I stayed.” The finger caressed his chest again. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Oh.

“I’m okay. I’m… sorry about the meltdown.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Smokescreen moved his hand to trace down Trailbreaker’s face. “I hope I managed to get you out of the dark thoughts?”

“Yeah. You were… You were perfect, Smokey.”

Smokescreen smirked. “Well, a mech can’t ask for a better compliment than that.” He stretched, sat up. “Now I do have to go, though. I have first shift.” He poked Trailbreaker’s windshield. “Refuel.”

“Yes, Smokescreen.” Trailbreaker smiled. He watched as the other mech stood up from the berth, stretching again, showcasing a few rather telltale black marks on his plating. Trailbreaker knew without looking that his own finish would be marred with streaks of Smokescreen’s blue and maroon. At least their thighs and hips were the same color, saving them from the most embarrassing paint transfers. “You might want to hit the washracks before your shift.”

Smokescreen looked down at himself. “Badges of honor.” He winked. “I’ll grin and bear them.” Then he walked out.

Trailbreaker huffed. Badges of honor indeed.

He didn’t have a shift yet. Ratchet had him on medical leave for another day so the welds could set properly. Gave him plenty of time to get to the washracks himself. Not just to get the streaks off, although he was fairly certain Smokescreen wouldn’t want him to walk around tricolored for the rest of the day. He desperately wanted to clean himself up. The dried transfluid itched.

He waited, though, until the morning shift was well under way and the hallways and washracks were empty. It would save him most of the questions. Not all, since at least a few ‘Bots noticed Smokescreen leaving with him the night before and had seen how upset he'd been, but most.

The warm water and solvent was heaven on his plating, and he sighed as the few remaining cricks in his cables loosened. Using a cloth and solvent, he rubbed at the streaks across his chest. He’d gotten most of them off when someone opened the washracks door.

“Oh, hey, Trailbreaker!” Bumblebee chirped, taking the stall next to his. “Are you on leave today too?”

“Yeah, Hatchet’s orders,” Trailbreaker replied with an easy smile. “You too, huh? What happened to you?”

“Ravage,” Bumblebee replied sheepishly, turning to show Trailbreaker the long scratches and weld marks across his winglets. “Cat packs a punch.”

Trailbreaker nodded. He’d seen the damage the cassette left behind her before.

“What about you?” the yellow scout continued. “You were protecting the humans?”

“I was supposed to,” Trailbreaker admitted. “I never got that far. Thundercracker dropped a building on me, put me out of commission.” He snorted. “My plating’s thick, but three stories’ worth of concrete and rebar did a bit more than scratch me.”

“I saw that building come down,” Bee replied, a look of sympathy on his face. “Didn’t your force field protect you?”

Trailbreaker shrugged. “First Aid was in the building, too. His plating is thinner than mine.”

He didn’t need to say anything else. Bumblebee nodded in understanding. Then he looked over at Trailbreaker and grinned. “Hey, you missed a spot.”

“Huh?” He twisted to see where Bee was pointing, at the maroon streak across his lower back plating. “Well, slag.”

“Not Slag,” Bumblebee chuckled. “Smokescreen, unless I miss my guess. Need help?”

“Please,” Trailbreaker replied, kneeling down as Bumblebee came closer. “I can’t reach on my own.”

“No problem,” Bumblebee replied easily, picking up a cloth and rubbing it across the black plating.

For a while, there was almost silence, aside from the dripping solvent.

“So,” Bumblebee said conversationally. “Smokescreen, huh?”

Trailbreaker didn’t know what to say. “Yeah,” he tried after a while. It seemed insufficient, so he added, “it was just a one-time thing, though.”

“What makes you think that?” Bumblebee replied. “Move, please.”

Trailbreaker obeyed, shifting to let Bee reach a new spot on his back. “He’s not all that interested.”

“Well, what about you?” Bumblebee’s tone was full of amusement. “Are you interested?”

“In Smokescreen?” Trailbreaker huffed. “Not like you to be so curious, Bee. But no.” At least, he didn’t think so. “He’s just a friend who was being nice.”

Bumblebee made a noncommittal noise. “If you say so. There.” He threw the cloth into the hamper. “You’re back in black.”

“Thanks,” Trailbreaker said, smiling down at the minibot. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem." Bumblebee smiled back. “Mind helping me in return?”

“I can do that,” Trailbreaker replied, bending down and getting his first good look at the red streaks decorating Bumblebee’s back plating.

He wasn’t even going to ask. He wasn’t.

“Thanks for this,” Bumblebee said, turning his head to shoot him a grin. “’Jumper usually helps me out himself, but he had a dead-early shift today and I got stuck sorting myself out.”

So much for not asking.

“It’s no problem,” he replied, taking care to make his tone light. “Celebrating? Or are you two a regular thing I somehow missed?”

“We’re on and off,” Bee said, twisting in Trailbreaker’s grasp. “More on than off these days, so I’m actually not sure where we’re headed. But I’m having fun for the ride.”

Trailbreaker nodded as he got rid of the last hint of red. “There. You’re pristine again.”

“Nobody but Sunstreaker’s pristine,” Bumblebee joked, “but thanks. I’m heading down to Ratchet’s for a follow-up, you going to refuel?”

Trailbreaker smiled slightly. “Yes. Doctor’s orders. And Hound’s orders. And Smokescreen’s, too. Are you ordering me to refuel as well?”

Bumblebee laughed. “Take it as a sign that we care about you.”

Trailbreaker chuckled. “Fair enough.”

It took a week before Ratchet called him down for a follow-up. Trailbreaker went eagerly, if for nothing else than for the hope that he’d finally be allowed to do something other than sit around.

“Okay, you’re good,” Ratchet announced. “The welds in your plating have set, the broken lines have healed nicely, your struts are looking good and the crack in your fuel tank’s repaired itself. Self-repair will take care of the fine details, too, but you should probably get a repaint at some point.”

Trailbreaker nodded. “Hound and Mirage offered to help me. Well, Hound offered, and then Mirage just took over. He said he would make sure that it was done properly.” He glanced down at his own dark plating. “Apparently, our standards aren’t up to his.”

Ratchet chuckled. “Be thankful you’re not subject to Sunstreaker’s whims. I swear I’ve never looked this good, but it takes a lot of time out of my week.” He took Trailbreaker’s hand and pulled him easily up into a seated position. “I’m clearing you for light duty. No transforming for a few days yet, and definitely none of that humpy patrolling you and Hound get up to.”

Trailbreaker laughed. “Humpy?”

“Gah.” Ratchet winced. “What I meant was, don’t go driving over uneven terrain, even after I give you the all clear for transforming. You’re on smooth roads for a while, pal.”

“I got it,” Trailbreaker grinned. “Besides, Hound does all his humping with Mirage these days.”

Ratchet snorted. “Younglings.”

The friendly banter was interrupted by the arrival of First Aid, walking in with his focus on a datapad. “Ratchet, I’ve got those reports you wanted. We’re running low on pretty much everything, but Wheeljack says he can have replacement gears and wiring manufactured quite soon. And Perceptor says that the new energon has less impurities than what we’ve been using so far, so hopefully we won’t have to do maintenance checks on ‘Bots quite that often. Oh!”

“Hi, First Aid,” Trailbreaker smiled at the apprentice medic. “How are you?”

“I’m f-fine,” First Aid sputtered. He stood like a deer in headlights, frozen and staring. “I – there – I didn’t get hurt, because of you.” He looked down. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Trailbreaker said. “Seriously. I couldn’t just let the building fall on you, you would have been crushed.”

“Still,” First Aid continued, still not looking at him. “You got hurt because you were protecting me. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Trailbreaker said, a bit uncomfortable now.

Ratchet quirked an optic ridge at his apprentice. “Just put the reports on my desk, Aid. Did Wheeljack say how he was doing with Huffer’s pede strut?”

“Almost done,” First Aid confirmed, looking up at his mentor. “I’m to collect it later today.”

“Good,” Ratchet nodded. “Get out of here, then. You’re off shift for now, until Wheeljack’s done.”

“Thanks, Ratchet,” First Aid beamed, his visor bright. Then he darted away towards the office at the end of medbay.

“And you,” Ratchet said, focusing on Trailbreaker again. “Go refuel. To capacity. You’re running low again.”

“I’m always running low, Ratchet,” Trailbreaker objected. “I never fuel to capacity unless it’s before a battle. I don’t need to fuel to capacity if all I’m doing is light duty, that’s a waste of energon.”

Ratchet frowned at him. “Keeping a ‘Bot well-fueled is never a waste of energon.”

 _It is if that ‘Bot is me_ , Trailbreaker thought, but he knew better than to say it. “I’ll refuel as much as needed, Ratchet.” He slid off the table and walked towards the exit.

“Your definition of needed, or mine?” Ratchet shouted, and Trailbreaker sped up to avoid the possible wrench to the helm.

“Mine, Ratchet,” he murmured. “Always mine.”

His fuel requirements were easily twice that of any other ‘Bot on the Ark. Pit, even Optimus Prime consumed less than he did. Trailbreaker needed the same amount of fuel as three minibots for all parts of him to stay fully functional and online, and he was painfully aware that his force field wasn’t worth three minibots, not on a day to day basis. As long as he made sure to fuel up fully before he was sent out on a mission, that was enough.

He didn’t need those systems active all the time. Nobody needed that.

Still, his self-repair systems were working hard. An extra cube couldn’t hurt. It wouldn’t bring him up to more than two-thirds of his full allotment anyway, which was more than enough for just sitting around.

“Hey, ‘Breaker!”

He turned towards Hound. “Hey, buddy. How’re you holding up?”

Hound frowned slightly in clear confusion. “Me? I’m fine. I’m not the one a building fell on.” He linked his arm with Trailbreaker’s. “So? What’s the Hatchet’s verdict?”

“Light duty for a few days. So I’m guessing monitor duty or something.”

“Lucky if so.” Hound grinned. “Last time I got light duty I had to file Jazz’s reports. They were fricking near illegible.”

“Language,” someone sing-songed behind them.

“Sorry, sweetspark.” Hound’s voice was nearly a croon. “I meant, they were _slagging_ near illegible.”

Trailbreaker chuckled. Those two were adorable together, even with Mirage trying to de-Earth Hound’s language.

“Better,” Mirage purred as he draped himself across Hound’s shoulder. “Hello, Trailbreaker. Are you ready for that repaint?”

“Not quite yet.” Trailbreaker sighed. “I’m under orders to refuel first.”

“Good!” Mirage said brightly. “If Ratchet’s ordered that, then we don’t have to. Come on, we’ll go with you.”

Trailbreaker smiled. “Thanks. Then at least the company will be nice.”

::Incoming! Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, assist the Aerialbots!::

::Roger that, Prowl!::

::Wheeljack, are you in position yet?::

::Yep, just about there! Clear on my mark… Clear!::

Trailbreaker had to admit, the boom was impressive. So was the cloud of smoke – big enough that he could see it rising even from behind the building he was using as cover.

::Dammit, Wheeljack!::

::Sorry, Ratch! It’s just a flesh wound, promise.::

::It better be, you sorry heap of bolts, or I’ll weld your hands to your aft.::

::Heh yeah, don’t do that. Anyway, it took care of Menasor.::

::Clear the channel,:: Prowl ordered. ::Wheeljack, confirm Menasor’s down. Silverbolt, any sign of the command trine?::

::None, sir,:: the Aerialbot replied tersely.

::Let’s hope it stays that way,:: someone murmured, right on top of whatever Prowl was saying in response. The SIC didn’t sound happy.

Trailbreaker ignored the comms for a moment and looked around. The humans were still fleeing from the office building in front of him – it didn’t make sense that there’d be so many of them in one building, but there were no sign of the flow of humans ebbing off. And as long as the humans were there, he’d have to stay there too, shielding their escape.

::Prowl, command trine incoming from the east!::

::Roger that, Silverbolt! Vector?::

::Heading for the main building, sir! Air Raid and Fireflight, intercept!::

Trailbreaker glanced eastward, to see if he could figure out where they were. But the buildings around him were too tall and he didn’t have a clear view.

::Bluestreak! Target the command trine!::

There was no response, but Trailbreaker could make out the sharp _tap-tap-tap_ of Bluestreak’s rifle.

And the whine and crash as whoever he’d hit flew straight into the building across from them.

::Starscream’s down! Targeting Thundercracker!::

Trailbreaker only paid half a mind to the comms as Prowl directed the defense. He was focused on the building in front of him.

The one Starscream had hit.

The one twice Trailbreaker’s height if not more, all glass and steel and concrete.

The one leaning ever so precariously towards him, an almost imperceptible creaking in the air.

_Oh, frag._

“Get clear!” he shouted, trying to look at both the humans running almost beneath his pedes and the building tilting steadily closer. “Hurry!”

It was no good. There were too many humans, the exit was too narrow to let them out fast, and the creak and rumble of the collapsing building were loud enough now to drown out the sound of the battle.

There was only one thing for it.

Trailbreaker turned to stand between the fleeing humans and the collapsing structure. “Run!” he shouted, trying to spur the humans to run faster.

His shield should hold. Should being the operative word.

_Come on. Just until they’re all clear._

::Trailbreaker! That building is coming down! Are the humans clear?::

::Not yet,:: he grunted. ::I’ll shield them.::

He raised his hands, prepared to shield himself and the humans, to take the weight of the collapsing building.

The force field didn’t materialize.

He tried again. Triggered the correct commands. Focused on where he wanted it.

Nothing. And the building was almost hanging over his head now.

Why the frag wasn’t the force field materializing!? He searched his HUD frantically for clues, trying again and again to call up the transparent screen that would shield him and the humans from what was rapidly becoming a collapse. Finally using his hands, his frame, bracing to try to keep the building from falling on them.

There were three words blinking at him when he tried to call up the shield. The only reason he noticed them was because he dimmed his optics to shield them from the crash and slide of steel and glass. With less to focus on, the words screamed against him

Fuel level insufficient.

That couldn’t be right.

The building creaked again, and he realized that he wouldn’t be able to hold it up. And the humans were still running and screaming behind him.

There was nothing else he could do.

He gave an almighty push, enough to get himself a few meters of clearance, then turned and dropped onto all fours over the human walkway. As soon as he was down, the wrecked building came crashing down on top of him.

He had time to register the multiple damage reports, all severe, of broken energon lines and damaged struts and a pierced tank, before everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Everything hurt. He knew he was repaired, Ratchet had said so, and that the aches and pains were simply his self-repair going at it full-strength. But it was hard to convince himself he was okay when every part of him ached like the Pit.

Trailbreaker shuffled stiffly down the hall. He could move, if only barely, and Ratchet had really only let him out of the medical bay because he needed the berth. He was on medical leave, officially, and under strict orders not to do anything more strenuous than getting his own energon cube. Maybe not even that.

Thank goodness Ratchet had filled up his tank while he was in stasis. Trailbreaker didn’t think he’d have the energy to go to the rec room right now.

Besides, he had another place to be.

Prowl’s office door loomed in front of him. Not usually a threatening place, not to him – Prowl was his immediate superior, and Trailbreaker knew him as well as anybody working under him did. And since Trailbreaker also tended to follow the rules, he’d never needed to be summoned for one of Prowl’s infamous disciplinary talks.

Still. He was nervous now.

Ratchet hadn’t wanted to tell him much, and First Aid had been elbows deep in Bluestreak’s mangled leg when Trailbreaker woke up, so he didn’t really know who’d won or if the humans had made it. He assumed the Decepticons had lost, simply because Starscream had been taken down – Megatron tended to fall back whenever that happened. But he wasn’t sure of anything, and he needed to know what happened.

He needed to know how much of it was his fault.

Prowl’s call to enter came immediately after Trailbreaker knocked on the door. He walked inside, more than a little on edge, and stood at attention in front of Prowl’s desk.

“Came to deliver my full report, sir. Sorry for the delay.”

Prowl optics widened minutely in what could only be surprise. “You were in surgery, Trailbreaker. That’s hardly cause for apologizing.”

It kind of was, though. But they’d get to that.

“Still, I appreciate you coming by already,” Prowl continued. “I’ve read your preliminary report, and I wanted to ask you some questions, to clarify a few points. Please, have a seat.” A rare, small smile crossed his face plates. “Ratchet will be furious with me if I make you strain your repairs on your first hour out of medbay.”

Trailbreaker would be lying if he said he wasn’t grateful to get off his feet for a bit. It felt like Ratchet had had to weld every part of him back together.

Prowl turned his attention to the datapad in his hand. “Now. You’ve noted that the design of the exit was seriously impeding the humans’ chances of escaping quickly.”

Trailbreaker nodded. “It was too narrow to let more than two or three of them out at the time. They had a larger one, one of those that spins, but it wasn’t working because of the power outage Soundwave’s hellions caused.”

Prowl kept on that tangent, and Trailbreaker lost himself in the discussion of human emergency exits and the age of the buildings on that particular campus and whether it would have been better to have everyone stay inside. When Prowl finally asked the question Trailbreaker had been dreading, it almost came as a surprise.

“There’s just one more thing,” his commander said. “You’ve written that you couldn’t shield them with your force field, so you had to use your frame. It was a commendable decision, and there are a lot of humans who owe you their lives.”

Trailbreaker bowed his head at the concealed praise.

“I was wondering, though, _why_ you couldn’t use your force field. That has never failed you before. And it worked fine when you shielded First Aid a month ago.”

He took a steadying in-vent. “I’m not sure it failed me this time either, sir. It never materialized, sure. But I got an error message saying that I didn’t have enough fuel to power it.” He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know why. I fueled as I usually do before we got called out, and drank two more cubes while Skyfire was taking us there. It’s what I always do when we’re called out, and it’s always been enough. I don’t know what happened this time.”

Prowl pulled up another datapad. “Hmm. Ratchet’s report says you had several gashes in your fuel tank. Could the fuel have leaked out?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged again. “I thought I got those when the building fell on me, but who knows? It could have happened earlier.”

“It could also be a malfunctioning fuel gauge or something wrong with your fuel processing plant,” Prowl mused. “Any one of a number of small errors, really.” He put the datapad aside with an air of finality. “Have Ratchet do a check-up on your fuel consumption system when he has time. Find out if something’s wrong.”

“Yes, sir.” There was a clear dismissal in Prowl’s tone, but Trailbreaker hesitated. “If I can ask, sir… How did the battle go? Did we win? Did the humans get away?”

Prowl gave him another of those rare smiles. “We stopped the Decepticons from getting what they wanted, and most of the humans survived the encounter. I call that a win.” The smile turned to a minute frown, and this time the dismissal was unmistakable. “Now, go get some rest. You look exhausted.”

“Yes, sir.”

Going back to see Ratchet would have to wait a few days at least. The medic was still swamped in casualties, replacing limbs and welding plating on everyone from the Aerialbots to Prime himself. As long as the Decepticons didn’t attack again – and he was tempted to copy the human habit of knocking on wood, no matter what Mirage thought about it – he should be fine until Ratchet had time to see him.

Half the Ark seemed to be on medical leave or in medbay waiting for repairs. Skyfire was covered in temporary welds, and kept to the lab more than not. Wheeljack was in stasis while Perceptor tried to figure out how to remove the melted plastic compound that seemed to have fused with his chassis. Bluestreak was limping through the halls, half the plating gone from his left leg. He seemed happy enough, though, if a bit worried, and was more than willing to keep Trailbreaker company in the rec room while he downed his prerequisite seven cubes a day.

Seven cubes now. Almost to capacity, every day. Ratchet wasn’t letting him get away with underfueling. To be fair, his self-repair systems probably needed it.

He’d tried to keep track of his own fuel consumption, to see if there was anything different. But with his self-repair working this hard he required half again the usual amount of fuel just to stay upright. He burned through it a lot faster than usual, but he’d never needed to heal this much before, so it was maybe nothing more than could be expected.

Not that that made him feel any better about requiring so much fuel.

It was way too much to spend on just him.

He was musing on his fifth cube of the day when someone dropped down in the seat opposite him. For once, Bluestreak had had other things he needed to do, and had left Trailbreaker to his own devices with a seemingly unending string of apologies. Trailbreaker had smiled and said it was fine, and it was, but… it also kind of wasn’t. He was trying hard to convince himself that he needed to finish his fifth cube and get himself a sixth.

So whoever had decided he needed company was a welcome distraction. Even more so when he looked up and realized his company was Smokescreen.

“Hey, ‘Breaker. How’re you holding up?” Smokescreen’s smile was small and genuine, quite different from the wide grins he tended to wear when trying to convince others that his intentions were honest.

“I’m healing.” He made a face at the cube before draining the rest. “And over-consuming.”

Smokescreen chuckled. “If I know you right, and I do know you fairly well by now, you’re barely taking what you need.”

Trailbreaker frowned. “It’s still too much.”

“Not if it’s what you need,” Smokescreen countered. He pointed at Trailbreaker decisively. “You, my mech, need some cheering up. And I happen to know just the cure for that.” He leaned back in his chair, stretched a leg out so his pede touched Trailbreaker’s, and let the light showcase his frame.

His very handsome, freshly polished frame.

Trailbreaker started shaking his head. “Ratchet will kill me if I put any strain on these welds.” Illogical as the threat was.

Smokescreen’s pede slid slowly up the inside of Trailbreaker’s leg. “What if you let me do all the work?” he purred. “You just lie back and spread those lovely strong legs of yours?”

Primus, the mech was tempting. Smokescreen was attractive, all bold lines and strong colors, and Trailbreaker vividly remembered what he could do with his spike.

“I’ll need to down one more cube first.”

Smokescreen stood and leaned into Trailbreaker’s personal space. “Take it to go?” he purred.

Well, that was definitely a solution Trailbreaker could get behind.

By the time he finally made it to the medbay to see Ratchet, it had been well over a week. Most of the Autobots were back on their feet finally, and the empty medbay was a nice sight – for all that he didn’t really want to be there.

Ratchet gave him a look like he didn’t really want him to be there either. “Something wrong? After cleaning concrete and rebar out of your systems twice in two months, I’d hoped not to see you in here for a while.”

“Prowl’s orders.” Trailbreaker dared the medic’s annoyance and limped further into the medbay. “He wants me to ask you to find out if there’s something wrong with my fuel consumption system.”

Ratchet looked surprised. Maybe it was because someone actually showed up with a problem before it was life-threatening for once. “Okay? Come up on the berth here, and we’ll take a look.” He began connecting wires and scanners to Trailbreaker’s frame before he’d even settled on the med-berth. “Why do you suspect there’s something wrong? Have you been fueling properly? To capacity?”

“I’m on seven cubes a day,” Trailbreaker grumbled, not without a little resentment. “Any more fuel a day and it’ll be coming out of my seams.”

That earned him a smack to the back of the helm. “No, it won’t. Seven cubes is minimum when your self-repair is working as hard as it is. I had even expected you to show more progress by now, to be honest, so we might need to up that.” Ratchet powered up the scanners. “And it didn’t answer my question.”

“We weren’t sure why my force field wasn’t working in the last battle,” Trailbreaker admitted. “I got a warning that I had insufficient fuel to power it, even though I’d fueled as usual in advance. It might have been those cracks in my tank…?”

“No, it probably wasn’t that,” Ratchet said, a frown on his face. “There would’ve been a lot more energon gumming up the systems around your tank if that were the case. Your tank was almost drained before you got that injury. You sure you fueled sufficiently?”

Trailbreaker shrugged, much as he could with all those wires connected to him. “It’s always been enough before.”

“Hmm. Well, your self-repair systems may still have been working after the previous battle, that could explain it. Let’s have a look, see what we find, shall we?”

He pulled a monitor close to the berth. It was covered in readings Trailbreaker couldn’t understand. Weirdly enough, they didn’t seem to make sense to Ratchet either.

“How many cubes have you had today?”

“Four. Was going to get one more after this and the last two before recharge tonight.”

“No strenuous activity lately? You’ve been taking it easy?”

Trailbreaker blushed. “Well… I interfaced. Once. But I didn’t move much,” he hurried to reassure the medic, whose face suddenly looked like a storm cloud. “I mainly just lay there.”

“Still, you should have waited. When was that?”

“Three days ago.”

Ratchet stared down at his scanner as if willing it to give him a better answer. “That doesn’t explain this, then.”

“Explain what?” Trailbreaker had to ask. “Is something wrong?”

“Not wrong, per se. Just off.” Ratchet pointed to one of the numbers on the monitor. “See this? That’s your current fuel level. What’s your HUD telling you?”

He checked. “Um. Thirty-four percent?”

“That’s right. With four cubes in you, you should be around fifty, even with your self-repair working this hard. And it is still working hard, which you see here.” He pointed to another number. “Your repairs should have integrated much better than this after a week. For some reason, the self-repair isn’t the main drag on your system. And see this?” He indicated a series of squiggly lines.

Trailbreaker saw, not that he understood much. So he nodded, figuring Ratchet would explain anyway.

“That’s your fuel consumption rate, going back the last two months in time. You can see it spikes right around the time of the battle where you shielded First Aid, but it’s never really gone back down, even though it should. Instead, it’s just increasing.” He gave Trailbreaker a sharp look. “You’re burning fuel much faster than you should, and I don’t know why.”

Trailbreaker didn’t like the sound of that. “O-kay? Um. Could it be dangerous?”

The medic waved a hand unconcernedly. “I doubt it. Though it could mean your self-repair’s working on an injury I somehow missed. It could mean you have a secondary drag on your system somehow – maybe there’s a blown relay in your processor somewhere that tells your body to burn it faster. Maybe there’s a glitch in your fuel consumption system, leaving it stuck on high. It’s a good thing you came in to get it checked.” He pushed at Trailbreaker’s shoulder. “You might as well lie down. I need to run a few more specialized diagnostics.”

Trailbreaker suppressed a sigh. “Yes, Ratchet.”

He distracted himself from the humming of scanners and equipment by counting the rivets in the ceiling. Then filling in the blanks where the rivet heads had been worn away. Then tracing imaginary paths along the gaps, setting up a defensive line of rivet Autobots on one end and picturing how to keep back the mad Decepticon horde coming at them.

“What the actual frag…?”

Well, that was worrisome.

He looked at Ratchet. The medic was staring at a new set of readouts, this one with a double squiggly line dancing across the small screen and a set of numbers alongside it.

“Well, the good news is that your coding’s fine,” Ratchet said slowly. “Your fuel consumption system’s fine, too.” He pulled his attention away from the monitor to look at Trailbreaker. Being the target of that focus wasn’t exactly comforting. “Tell me. Did you interface right after that first battle?”

Trailbreaker could feel himself heating up. That Ratchet wasn’t much of a gossip and had probably no interest in the information aside from the clinical side didn’t make it any easier to talk about that kind of thing. “Yeah. I did.”

“With spark merging?” The medic’s focus felt even sharper now, if that was even possible. Trailbreaker fought to resist the urge to squirm.

“I – yeah.” He looked at the monitor, worried. “Is that what’s wrong? Did I catch something?”

Ratchet laughed. It wasn’t an entirely mirthful sound. “Catch something? Yeah, I’d say you caught something. Something I haven’t seen in… well, longer than I care to remember.” He pulled out a different monitor and connected a different scanner to it, then rested the scanner directly over Trailbreaker’s spark. “Don’t worry, it’s not dangerous. Though you do have some decisions to make.”

“What decisions?”

Ratchet angled the monitor slightly so Trailbreaker could see. The scanner apparently was some sort of imaging device, because that was his own spark on the screen, spinning slightly faster than Trailbreaker felt was usual.

Around it, circling his spark at a leisurely pace, was a small dot of energy.

“Congratulations, Trailbreaker.” Ratchet’s voice was soft and miraculously devoid of mockery. “You’re carrying a newspark.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heed the new tag, readers.

Trailbreaker walked slowly. He didn’t feel connected to reality, making his way back to his quarters on automatic. The talk with Ratchet – after that terrifying reveal – ran on repeat in his mind.

_“So far, you’re both healthy,” Ratchet said. “But considering your condition, I’m upping your fuel allotment and prolonging your light duty another two weeks.” He treated Trailbreaker to a sharp look. “You will follow these requirements. Regardless of how excessive you find them.” He waited for a response for a moment, but Trailbreaker didn’t say anything. Ratchet’s expression softened before he continued. “Now, I take it you know who the sire is.”_

_Trailbreaker just nodded. He didn’t really know how to process words at the moment._

_“Well, if you want to keep it, steady contributions from the sire would be beneficial,” Ratchet explained. His tone was still soft. “Transfluid, to aid in construction, and spark energy, to keep the newspark from siphoning too much of its energy from your spark. We can manage without both if needs be, but it’s not optimal.”_

_“If I want to keep it?” Trailbreaker asked dumbly._

_“Yes. I did mention you had some decisions to make.” Ratchet’s voice turned sympathetic. “You can choose to remove it. I will do the procedure for you if you wish. Or you can choose to keep it.” He patted Trailbreaker’s knee. “Don’t make a decision right now. Think on it. Talk to the sire, maybe. Talk it over with a friend, if that helps.”_

_Trailbreaker nodded. He felt numb as he slid from the berth. “How – how long…?”_

_Ratchet seemed to understand what he was asking. “You need to decide within the next two weeks. After that, it’s unsafe to terminate. If you wish to keep it, it will be due towards the end of the year.”_

_“Okay.” He didn’t know what else to say._

_“Think on it,” Ratchet repeated. “Talk to someone. And let me know.”_

Trailbreaker sighed. Talk to someone. Frag if he knew who to talk to. Or even what to say.

Maybe he should take some time to himself first.

He somehow managed to get to his own quarters, though he had no clear recollection of how he got there. He input the code in a daze, stumbling in as soon as the door opened and dropping down onto his berth.

Carrying.

Him.

He couldn’t wrap his processor around it.

How in pit did this happen?

Well, he knew _how_ it happened. He remembered every intimate detail. He wasn’t likely to forget in a hurry either – mechs didn’t really want Trailbreaker in their berth, and he’d never been with someone who’d lavished him with attention like Smokescreen had.

Smokescreen. Primus, he’d have to tell him. After he’d figured out what to say, anyway.

A newspark.

He lifted a hesitant hand and rested it on the chest plates over his spark. Half imagining he could feel the fast passage of the ball of energy circling his own spark. Darting past, eager and innocent and pure and dependent on _him_ somehow.

A ping on his comm announced a message from Ratchet. He opened it cautiously, fearing what it contained. He didn’t think he could take any more news today.

There were three files affixed to the message. One was a copy of his check-up report, which Trailbreaker tagged for later reading. The second was a confirmation of his prolonged light duty. And the third was his new fuel allotment.

_Ten_ cubes a day. Two more than his normal maximum. Six more than he usually allowed himself.

The same amount of fuel as Mirage, Hound and Jazz put together. Or the entire tactical unit if he didn’t count himself.

It was a ridiculous amount of fuel for one mech. Or, one and a fraction of one, as it were.

He’d be doing nothing but fueling at this rate. Start drawing three cubes every time he refueled instead of two, and then one more somewhere in there. Primus, at this rate fuel really would be seeping out of his seams.

There was a notation at the bottom of the file. Trailbreaker could almost hear Ratchet’s stern tone in his mind.

_Ten cubes for now, while you heal. Drink them. I will know if you don’t._

Trailbreaker sighed. Ratchet probably wouldn’t go any easier on him just because of the newspark – if anything, he’d probably earned himself more monitoring.

At least Ratchet had also prescribed recharge, which sounded good right now. His mind was still going in circles.

He’d get the other six – Primus, _six extra cubes_ – later.

The increased fuel consumption turned out to be the easy part. Yes, it did leave him fueling more often than not, and he’d taken to bringing one cube with him to sip on. But it was easy to explain away. Whenever someone asked, he just shrugged and said “Ratchet’s orders,” and that seemed to be sufficient.

For most, anyway.

“Ten cubes?” Mirage asked skeptically. “That’s more than your capacity, Trailbreaker. That indicates you burn through two entire cubes of energon on top of what your tank can hold, every day.”

Well, when put that way, it sounded like a complete waste.

“It’s Ratchet’s orders,” he defended himself. “I’m not healing as fast as he’d like. Probably because I’ve been taken out twice in as many months.” And because of a certain unexpected development that he still hadn’t figured out what to do about. “I’m sure he’ll lower the requirement once I’ve healed a bit more. Maybe when my two weeks of light duty are over.”

“Can you go driving with me again then?” Hound’s optics were eager.

“I don’t know.” Trailbreaker sighed. “He said something about avoiding bumpy roads even after he’s cleared me to transform, and he hasn’t done that yet. It may take a while longer than two weeks before I get to go for a proper drive.”

It could well be a lot longer than that. Trailbreaker had his doubts that Ratchet would let him go off-roading at all while he was carrying. So it could be months before he could go driving with Hound again.

If he decided to keep it. He hadn’t managed to think too hard on that yet. So far, all he’d decided was that he needed to talk to Smokescreen. And he had no idea how to go about it. No idea what to say.

“That sucks slag,” Hound complained, ignoring Mirage’s faint frown. “I miss going out with you, buddy.”

“Not as much as me, trust me.” Trailbreaker managed a chuckle. “At least you can go outside. I’m stuck inside sorting through old datapads until this stupid frame of mine decides to heal properly.”

“You’ll get there.” Mirage aimed for soothing, but Trailbreaker didn’t feel better from it. His friends didn’t know how bad it was. “And then we can all go out together, and I can stand at the lookout point and watch the two of you go crazy on the dirt tracks.”

“Yeah.” Trailbreaker smiled. “That sounds like a plan.”

He was retrieving cube nine and ten, the last for the day. Eight cubes should have made him feel uncomfortably full, but instead he was ravenous. His self-repair had eased up, most of his injuries healed, and still there was no sign of his frame requiring less fuel.

It was frustrating.

“What’s put that pout on your face?”

Slag, not now. He still hadn’t decided what to say. Though he suspected he could go for another vorn and still not know what to say.

“Hey, Smokey.” He offered up a smile. “How’ve you been?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Smokescreen laughed. “I’m not the one who’s been limping around for weeks.”

“I’m doing better, though,” Trailbreaker defended himself. He managed a smile. “Limp is almost gone.”

“I’m glad.” Smokescreen smiled back, and Trailbreaker didn’t know what to say. But he had to say something.

“I, um, I actually wanted to –“

“Want to come back to my quarters? For the night?”

“- talk to you. About something.”

Smokescreen grinned. “Talk, huh? Want to get the more pleasurable activities done first?” His hand trailed seductively down Trailbreaker’s side, drawing out tingles and sending shivers down his back strut.

“Yeah,” he agreed, perhaps with a bit more eagerness than the situation elicited. Primus knew he could do with a distraction. “Yeah, I can go for that.”

Smokescreen groaned and thunked his head down on Trailbreaker’s chest. “Primus.”

“Yeah.” Trailbreaker pulled him closer.

They were tangled together in a pile of cooling plating, and Trailbreaker felt sated and content. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this relaxed – it must have been…

Frag.

He still didn’t know how to bring it up.

“So that was awesome,” Smokescreen said. He sounded relaxed and happy too. One of his fingertips was tracing nonsense patterns on Trailbreaker’s front. “I really like how strong you are. Next time I want to ride you, so you can manhandle me some more. That possible?”

Next time. Well, that was a good sign at least. “Sure. I’d like that.”

Smokescreen lifted his head and looked down at him. “Hey, you said there was something you needed to talk to me about?”

Slag. Slag, slag, slag. “I did.”

“Well, talk. Now’s as good a time as any, right?” Smokescreen grinned. “Unless it’s duty-related or bad news, then I don’t want to hear it right now.”

“It’s news, anyway,” Trailbreaker replied. Primus, he didn’t know how to do this, and now he had to. “I don’t know if you’ll think it’s good or bad.”

Smokescreen frowned. “Well, now you’ve got me nervous. What’s up?”

Trailbreaker put one hand on Smokescreen’s doorwing, petting lightly. He needed the extra contact and something to do with his hands. His spark was suddenly spinning madly, tank roiling, and he had to reset his vocalizer twice before he managed to get any words out. “Remember that first time? After the battle where I shielded First Aid?”

“Sure.” Smokescreen smiled easily. “That was amazing.”

“It was. Do you remember…” He had to reset his vocalizer again, and take a moment to get his tanks under control. All that fuel felt like it was boiling in him now. “We merged, that time.”

“Yeah. You looked like you needed the extra closeness.” Smokescreen pursed his lips. “What are you getting at, ‘Breaker?”

“Well…” There was nothing to do but to get it out. He said the rest of it in one big rush. Speaking fast meant it would be over sooner. “I saw Ratchet a week or so ago because my fuel efficiency’d gone down, and he ran some tests, and it turns out – it turns out that night had consequences.”

Smokescreen looked like he’d been struck. “Oh, please don’t go where I’m scared this is going.”

That wasn’t promising. But he’d said this much, he needed to get it all out there. “I’m – I’m sparked, Smokey. I’m carrying, and it’s yours.”

For a moment, Smokescreen just stared at him. Then he pulled back abruptly. “No. No, no, no, no, that can’t be. No. A newspark? Really?”

“Really,” Trailbreaker confirmed. “Ratchet showed me.”

Smokescreen shook his head fervently. “No. I can’t – no.” He stood up from the bed, and Trailbreaker felt his spark drop. This wasn’t going well.

Smokescreen paced back and forth on the floor, seemingly ignorant of the traces of lubricant and transfluid decorating his plating. He was working himself into a tizzy, optics wide, lips moving as he mumbled to himself – mostly ‘no’.

Frag.

Trailbreaker pulled out a cloth and wiped himself down, closing his cover. The reminder wasn’t doing any of them any good.

Smokescreen stopped abruptly and stared at him. “Can you get rid of it?”

The way he phrased it made Trailbreaker extremely uncomfortable. It felt like Smokey was asking him to get rid of it, not asking whether or not it was possible. “I haven’t decided if I want to keep it yet. I have a few more days to decide.”

Smokescreen groaned, rubbing his forehead. “No. No, I can’t.” He looked up, desperate optics meeting Trailbreaker’s. “No. You want me to be a sire, and I can’t do that. I never planned that. It’s not something I want, and it’s not something you can ask of me.” He turned away, walked towards the door. He paused with his hand on the door panel, turned his head slightly. “Do whatever you want with the thing. I want no part of it.” He pushed the button. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore. You can let yourself out.” There was a sigh. “And for what it’s worth… I’m sorry.”

Then he was gone.

Trailbreaker was left alone in the dark, staring after him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't remember ever getting fifteen comments on one chapter in a multichapter fic before. Thank you so much, readers!  
> Trailbreaker is about to learn that he has support he didn't know about :)

The notification popped up on his HUD mid-shift, between energon cube five and six.

_I’ve set aside time for you in three days’ time_ , Ratchet’s message said. _That’s the latest we can do anything. Let me know what you decide as soon as possible._

Trailbreaker sighed. He still had no idea what to do. Smokescreen had avoided him like cosmic rust since their discussion a few days ago, and Trailbreaker hadn’t dared talk to anyone else. Instead, he thought it over from every angle, and ended up going in circles with himself. He didn’t know enough to make the right decision.

But he knew where he could find someone who knew at least some of the things he’d need to figure everything out.

He sent off a meeting request to Prowl for the end of his shift. A moment later, it was accepted.

Prowl nodded at him as he walked inside. “Please sit, Trailbreaker.”

“Thank you, sir.” He took a seat gingerly. He’d planned what he was going to say, but the words had all fled his mind the moment he walked in. “Um.”

Prowl took pity on him. “You wanted to discuss something?”

“Well, yeah. Yes, sir. I had a question.” Slag, this was already awkward. Maybe he could pull a Sideswipe and say he’d changed his mind?

Prowl just looked at him.

Trailbreaker took a deep vent. “I wondered what the Autobot regulations said about carrying mechs, sir.” He hid behind his ever-present energon cube. “Not that it’s – it’s a hypothetical situation, sir.”

Prowl’s doorwings had jumped an entire inch upward. If he’d been Smokes- Bluestreak, that would have been a full stretch up in surprise. Trailbreaker suppressed a wince.

“ _Carrying_ mechs?” Prowl gave him a sharp look. “This is hypothetical, you say?”

Trailbreaker nodded. It was all he could manage.

“Very well.” Prowl leaned backwards, doorwings dropping again. He pulled a datapad from one of his shelves and powered it on, browsing. “There are regulations for that, though I see they haven’t been updated since before the Ark left Cybertron. We shall have to remedy that. In case such hypothetical situations become more realistic.” Another sharp look told Trailbreaker he didn’t really have Prowl fooled at all. “A carrying mech will be taken off active duty. He will be transferred away from the front lines if at all possible, and placed in a safe area. He may continue to serve if it’s medically advisable, but he will be relegated to desk duty or similar and will be kept out of danger.” Prowl sighed. “Of course, if this were to happen here, we could do no such thing. This ship turned base is all we have. But in such a hypothetical situation the mech in question would not have patrol duties, and would definitely not be sent on missions. All duty shifts would be completed here, inside the Ark.” Prowl put the datapad down. “If this hypothetical mech was a frontliner, for instance, this would make more of an impact than if he was a medic or engineer. But regardless, the regulations would be followed.”

Trailbreaker nodded. “I see. Thank you, sir.”

That meant that he wouldn’t be allowed to go outside and help. His force field was defensive, and often critically needed whenever the Decepticons attacked human installations.

“Of course.” Prowl nodded back. “Was that all, Trailbreaker?”

“Yes, sir. Yes, I believe that’s all.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

Trailbreaker’s legs felt heavy as he walked out.

He wandered aimlessly for a while, before finding himself on top of the mountain, sitting in the dark and looking up at the distant stars. It felt weirdly appropriate.

That was it, then. He couldn’t justify keeping the newspark. Not if it meant he would be out of commission for the better part of ten more months. And consume as much fuel as three of his companions throughout that time. And with Smokescreen not wanting anything to do with it.

He raised a hand to his chest, visualizing the tiny spark spinning around his own again. It hadn’t asked for this. No one wanted to be born in the middle of a war anyway, did they? What could he even offer?

His spark felt heavy as he accessed his comm, got ready to send a message to Ratchet.

And hesitated.

After an endless moment, he canceled it and put in a direct call to medbay. He didn’t know who was there, but he figured a medic would be good to talk to anyway.

::Medbay!:: First Aid’s bright chirp was almost surreal.

Trailbreaker broke the connection. First Aid was good, but he was so young, and Trailbreaker didn’t know if he’d even learned about sparklings yet. Primus knew there hadn’t been any chance for him to learn.

He’d go in and talk to Ratchet instead. In the morning maybe.

The night was quiet. He busied himself with finding the stars, drawing lines between them, setting up battle lines and defensive positions. Figuring out where he’d position himself to best protect the fragile small clusters that were the humans. Abandoning that when it hit a bit too close to his current problem, and changing the tactics to attack the large Megatron-star near the horizon instead.

When the Megatron-star was swallowed up by the impending sunrise, he finally gave up. He stood on stiff, tired legs and began making his way down the mountain. He had just enough time to go get his first three cubes before his shift.

He felt a hundred vorn older than he was. Probably looked it too, the way he was shuffling down the corridors towards the rec room.

Wheeljack was at the dispenser when he arrived. His helmfins blinked a cheerful pink. “Morning, Trailbreaker! First shift today?” He stepped aside with his cube, letting Trailbreaker at the dispenser.

“Yeah, monitor duty,” Trailbreaker confirmed. He downed the first cube right there, filling another.

Wheeljack gave him a concerned look. “You okay, mech? You must be healed soon?”

He nodded. “I’m getting there. But I didn’t get enough recharge last night.” He downed his second cube – his fuel levels were really low, barely at eight percent even with a cube in him. He probably needed four cubes just to make it to midday.

“That sucks, mech.” Wheeljack sounded sympathetic as he patted Trailbreaker on the back. “Don’t run yourself ragged.”

“Yes, sir.” Trailbreaker filled his next two cubes and turned around.

And came face to face with Ratchet.

“No recharge, huh?” The medic didn’t look too pleased. “Come with me.”

Trailbreaker subspaced one cube and followed. He had been planning to see Ratchet anyway, once he’d figured out what to say. But now he was suddenly too tired to worry. Too tired to do anything but follow that solid form out of the rec room towards medbay.

“Drink one more cube,” Ratchet ordered quietly. “I don’t need to scan you to see you’re dead on your feet.”

Trailbreaker obeyed. And then he drank the last cube, for good measure. His fuel level read at thirteen percent, climbing steadily to seventeen as he watched.

He didn’t notice they were in the medbay until Ratchet took his arm and led him into his office. Once there, he pushed Trailbreaker down onto a chair and handed him another cube, this one the dull, heavy gleam of medgrade. “Finish that. I’m going to tell Prowl that you’re on medical leave for the rest of the week. Once I come back, we will talk.” Then he was gone, locking the door behind him.

Trailbreaker looked down at the cube. Even this nasty sludge looked appetizing. He sipped at it slowly, trying to make it last.

Ten minutes later, Ratchet came back. He smiled briefly at Trailbreaker as he walked past. “I’ve never seen anyone savor medgrade before. You can just drink it, you know. There will be more if you need it.” He sat down behind the desk and leaned forward. “Now, tell me the truth. How much recharge did you get last night?”

Trailbreaker sighed and drained the rest of the cube before answering. With the influx of fuel his processor was waking up, and now he dreaded the upcoming conversation. “None.”

“Too much to think about?”

Trailbreaker nodded mutely. Then, in the interest of honesty, said “I spent all night on the top of the mountain, thinking. And I think I know what I have to do.”

Ratchet’s sharp optics met his. “What you _have_ to do? Not what you _want_ to do?”

Trailbreaker shrugged. “I think it’s what I have to do, Ratchet.”

Ratchet leaned back, a frown on his face. “All right. Tell me your reasoning.”

“Um.” Trailbreaker sighed. “I don’t know where to even start.” He fiddled with the empty energon cube. “I talked to Smoke- to the sire. It didn’t go well. He… He doesn’t want it. Or anything to do with it. He said I can do as I please, but he won’t help. He broke it off.”

Ratchet sighed. “That’s unfortunate. But it can be managed, it just means more supplements for you. Was that what made your mind up?”

“Part of it.” Trailbreaker bit his lip. He was suddenly very conscious of the phantom feeling of the tiny sparklet spinning around his own. “I also asked Prowl what the rules are. I didn’t tell him it was me, but I think he guessed.”

Ratchet snorted. “Prowl’s sharp. Of course he did.”

“Yeah.” Trailbreaker smiled, and then it died away again. “He said I’d be put on desk duty throughout the carry, and that I wouldn’t be able to help in any of the battles or attacks. I wouldn’t be able to patrol either, and would have to stay here. On top of the insane amounts of fuel I suddenly require…” He lowered his head. “I can’t justify keeping it, sir. I just can’t.”

Ratchet stared at him for a moment. Then he shook his head. “Not good enough.”

Trailbreaker looked up in surprise. “Not good enough?”

“No.” Ratchet pointed at him. “I am not letting you terminate this sparklet because you think it’s not in the _Autobots’_ best interest to keep it. I won’t have you feel forced to terminate because we’re at war and the options are limited. You don’t choose for our sake, Trailbreaker. You choose for _yourself_.”

That… was unexpected. Once again, Trailbreaker found himself lost for words.

“Now, if you decide, for yourself, that you don’t want a sparkling. That it’s not something you want for yourself, not something you feel ready for. Then we’ll talk. Then I’ll terminate, if that’s what you want. And if you decide you do want to keep it, we will help you. Don’t doubt that.” He took another cube of medgrade from a desk drawer and placed it in front of Trailbreaker. “Drink that too. And then I want to check you over.” He looked at Trailbreaker curiously. “Didn’t you talk it over with a friend at all?”

Trailbreaker broke the seal on the cube. “Not really. I don’t know what to say. I never know what to say these days.”

“Hmm.” Ratchet frowned. “Talk it over with Hound. He’s off-duty today. And then we’ll talk about this again tomorrow, okay?” He stood. “Drink up, and meet me outside.”

Trailbreaker stared into his cube for a while after Ratchet had left. His mind was running in circles. On the one hand, all his arguments still felt valid, for all that Ratchet had shot him down. Smokescreen still didn’t want the sparkling. If he was pulled from patrols and active duty, lives would be lost. Trailbreaker didn’t know if he could stomach that. Not to mention all the fuel he would consume, when he knew there was already rationing in place.

On the other hand…

On the other hand, there was a tiny _life_ growing inside of him.

He sighed and accessed his comm.

::Trailbreaker?::

::Hey, Hound. Did I wake you?::

::Nah.:: Hound chuckled. ::You know Mirage rises with the sun. What can I do for you?::

::Do you – do you have some time later? Both of you?:: He didn’t know Mirage that well yet, but he trusted him, and another mind to mull things over would probably be good. ::There’s something I need to talk to you about. Something I need help figuring out.::

::Sure thing, buddy.:: Hound suddenly sounded serious. ::Is something wrong?::

::Not… really. I’ll tell you everything later, okay? Midday?::

::Definitely. Bring your cubes to our quarters, ‘kay? We’ll wait for you there.::

::Thanks.::

He ended the call and downed the rest of the cube. One way or another, he would make a decision today.

Ratchet waited for him near a medberth. To Trailbreaker’s surprise, First Aid was next to him.

“Aid? You were here last night, aren’t you off-duty now?”

“So it was you who called,” First Aid replied, a happy lilt to his voice. “I thought the ident said ‘Trailbreaker’ before it cut off.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” He smiled back sheepishly. “I changed my mind mid-call.”

First Aid shrugged, visor brightening in something Trailbreaker would tentatively identify as a smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you came in instead.”

Ratchet snorted. “Was dragged in, more like. Up you get, Trailbreaker.”

Once Trailbreaker was situated to Ratchet’s satisfaction, the medic began speaking again. “Now, let’s check those injuries of yours. They should, at this point, be almost completely healed...” ::Trailbreaker.::

Trailbreaker looked up in surprise. He hadn’t expected Ratchet to comm him on top of continuing his explanation to First Aid. ::Yes?::

::This is a good learning chance for First Aid. He might not see another carrying mech for who knows how long. I’d like your permission to tell him.::

So his suspicion had been right. Well, this way at least something good would come of it. ::Yeah, sure. Go ahead.::

“We also need to check Trailbreaker’s spark and fuel consumption,” Ratchet continued. “And at this point, Aid, I’m reminding you of the patient confidentiality clause.” He looked at Trailbreaker again, as if to give him a chance to change his mind. Trailbreaker just nodded. He wasn’t going to.

“Trailbreaker is carrying,” Ratchet finally said. First Aid’s visor brightened. “He has not decided whether he’s keeping it or not.” There was a warning glance aimed at First Aid at this point, and Trailbreaker suppressed a chuckle. First Aid had looked so eager for a moment. “We’ll be checking both Trailbreaker and the newspark. Pay attention.”

Trailbreaker laid back and surrendered to Ratchet’s clinical touches, and First Aid’s more hesitant ones. He answered questions as he was asked, but aside from that, he let his mind wander.

He needed to figure out what he was going to tell Hound and Mirage. Hopefully they could help him figure out what to do about the newspark.

“Hey,” a soft voice said.

He onlined his optics – when had he offlined them? – and met First Aid’s warm gaze. “It’ll be okay. Whatever you decide, it will be okay.”

Trailbreaker tried to smile, despite feeling the tears pressing on. Somehow, First Aid’s compassion struck him to the core.

Ratchet smiled. “Trailbreaker, you need to stay here for an hour or so. We’ve got you on a spark fluctuation monitor. I have some paperwork to do, so I’ll leave you in Aid’s capable hands.”

Trailbreaker didn’t mind that much at all. First Aid was beaming down at him, clearly smiling behind his mask. “I mean it, you know. It’ll be okay.” He sat down on a chair. “Do you want to recharge for an hour? I can wake you when we’re done?”

“Thanks,” Trailbreaker murmured. His optics were already offlining again, processor drifting, but he didn’t imagine the warm touch to his shoulder.

“My pleasure. Recharge, Trailbreaker.”

He did.


	5. Chapter 5

Trailbreaker walked toward Hound’s quarters with something almost approaching eagerness. First Aid had let him recharge much longer than the promised hour, and after stopping by the rec room to get his cubes he was bordering on late, but he didn’t care. He felt so much more rested, it was almost enough to drown out his apprehension.

Not that Hound or Mirage would judge. But Hound was perceptive, and knew him well enough to know when to push for information.

It was unnerving.

But Hound was still his best friend. And Ratchet had been right. At this point, Trailbreaker really needed to talk to a friend.

The door slid open almost before he’d removed his hand from the buzzer, and Hound beamed out at him. “There you are! Come on in.”

“Hello, Trailbreaker,” Mirage said pleasantly as he walked inside. The former noble was standing by Hound’s small table, elegantly pouring energon into two glasses. It gave a hint of better times, for all that the energon looked to be the standard ration. “It is good to see you walking better.”

“Thanks.” Trailbreaker smiled. “It feels really good to be able to move.” He pulled his three cubes from subspace – even Ratchet’s diligent topping up of his tank with medgrade hadn’t culled his appetite.

Hound frowned. “You’re almost healed, and you’re still fueling this heavily?”

Trailbreaker sighed. It was a relief to actually show his emotions. Both Hound and Mirage knew how he felt about his excessive fueling regime. Though Trailbreaker had been forced to admit that at this point he actually did need every cube. “Yeah. It’s connected to the other stuff I wanted to talk to you about.”

“That’s right,” Hound said, sitting down. “You said you needed to talk to us about something. That you needed advice.”

Mirage handed one cube to Hound, and turned concerned optics on Trailbreaker. “Will you tell us what’s going on? You haven’t been yourself for weeks.”

Trailbreaker winced. “I’ve been that obvious?”

“Not really.” Mirage shook his head. “We know you well, that’s all.”

“’Breaker,” Hound said insistently, leaning forward. “What’s going on?”

Trailbreaker sighed. “I’m – well. There really is no easy way to say this. I’m…” He looked up, met Hound’s optics. “I’m carrying.”

There was a loud clang as Mirage dropped down heavily onto the berth. “Oh, my.”

“Carrying?” Hound asked, optics wide in shock. “As in, _carrying_ carrying? Newspark carrying?”

“As in newspark carrying,” Trailbreaker confirmed, his hand drifting up to rest over his chest plates. “And I have to decide by tomorrow if I want to keep it or not. I’ve been thinking about it for two weeks and thought I’d made up my mind, but Ratchet made me think it over for one more day and told me to talk to you, and now I’m…” He took a steadying invent and looked from Hound to Mirage. He was well aware he probably looked as desperate as he felt. “Now I don’t know what to do.”

“Well,” Mirage said firmly. He seemed to have mustered control of himself somehow. “First off, come and sit here between us. This is not a discussion one should have without physical contact involved.”

That… didn’t really make much sense. But it sounded nice even so. Trailbreaker moved over to the berth and carefully maneuvered himself down between them. He ended up with Mirage’s legs across one of his own and Hound leaning against his shoulder. It was nice.

“Now,” Mirage said, one hand stroking Trailbreaker’s. “Tell us the whole story.”

Later, Trailbreaker would mainly remember the relief that came over him when he finally dared to share the entire story with someone who cared, and who still accepted him without question. Hound and Mirage listened attentively, not interrupting, grounding him with supportive touches to his hands and arms when he needed it.

He felt unburdened.

“I can see why this has been weighing on you,” Mirage said finally, as the story wound down. “That’s a giant decision to make.”

“Smokescreen really wants no part of it, huh?” Hound almost growled. “What a slagger.”

“Peace, Hound.” Mirage reached out and rested a hand on Hound’s leg. “Not everyone’s cut out to be a sire.”

“Or a carrier,” Trailbreaker muttered.

Mirage looked at him. “Do you believe you won’t do well?”

Trailbreaker rubbed a hand across his face. “I haven’t even really thought that far ahead. I’m stuck on what a waste it is for someone like me to be out of commission for the rest of the year. My only contribution to the Autobots, and it’s gone for the foreseeable future.”

“You don’t value yourself highly enough at all,” Hound said, sounding exasperated. Understandably enough – it wasn’t the first time they’d had this discussion. “Your force field isn’t the only thing that gives you value, Trailbreaker. You’re a whole mech. You’ve got a good processor, a kind spark, you’re strong and dependable and a good friend. Please don’t forget that.”

“Think a year ahead,” Mirage said softly. “You’re carrying a life inside of you, Trailbreaker. A sparkling. The first since we crashed here, maybe the first for the better part of the war. In a year, there could be a tiny bundle of protoform clinging to your frame. Depending on you for fuel, safety, learning to live and love from you. A tiny curious being that sees nothing but wonder in the universe.”

“That’s very poetic, love,” Hound chuckled. “I’d half suspect you want a sparkling of your own.”

Mirage laughed, a silvery, pearlescent sound. “Who doesn’t? Were we at peace, I think this ship would be flooded with tiny curious beings. I’m half convinced that the only reason no one’s had a sparkling here yet is because no one’s been sparked by accident until now.”

Trailbreaker had his doubts about that. He remembered Smokescreen’s face too well.

“Hey,” Hound said softly, leaning in and resting his chin on Trailbreaker’s shoulder. “Here’s the only question that matters. Do you want this sparkling? Don’t think about the Autobots, or Smokescreen, or the war. Just think about that tiny spark around yours. Do you want it? Or do you want it gone?”

It was as if Hound’s words were the key that unlocked the sluice gate inside Trailbreaker, letting loose a veritable tide of emotion. He tried to imagine the tiny light gone, snuffed out as if it had never been, and his entire being rebelled. It was hard to vent, hard to focus, and he had to force his frame to function, had to forcefully dismiss the warnings on his HUD. Even with that, he had to reboot his vocalizer twice before it worked.

“I want it,” he gasped, forcing himself to vent. “Primus, I want it so much.”

“Then you can have it.” Mirage raised his hand to cradle Trailbreaker’s cheek. “Listen to me, Trailbreaker. _You can have it_. You have your sparkling, he’s safe, nestled against your spark. You just have to _decide_ that you have him, and then no one will take him from you.”

Trailbreaker nodded, venting frantically to try and bring his core temperature down.

Then, surprisingly, Mirage leaned down and pressed his cheek against Trailbreaker’s chest.

 _“Hoo-roo, hoo-roo, my darling star,”_ he sang softly. _“I love you to the moons and back. My tiny spark so bright and so pure, my tiny spark so strong and sure, beloved. Hoo-roo, hoo-roo, my darling star. The world is always at your pedes. Who knows what you’ll get to see, who knows where your path will lead, beloved? Hoo-roo, hoo-roo, my darling star. Through crystal groves and rusted sea, the whole world so wide and free, yet always welcome here with me, beloved. Beloved.”_

Trailbreaker’s optics stung.

Hound smiled as Mirage continued his crooning. “I think you’re going to need to let us babysit.”

Trailbreaker nodded and ran a hand over his optics. “Yeah. You’re my first choice.” He smiled down at the noble still humming softly to the tiny newspark in his chest. “Primus. I’m having a sparkling.”

“Yeah, you are. Congratulations.” Hound nudged his shoulder. “I think you’re going to do wonderfully.”

He stayed the rest of the afternoon with Hound and Mirage. It was soothing, being around them, especially now that they knew. He was almost recharging when they finally threw him out.

He was going to need their support, he knew. Without a present sire, he would need help with the sparkling.

And the practical problems that had held him back were still there. Humans were likely to die if he didn’t come along to defend against the Decepticons. Without him, the Autobots would sustain more injuries. He wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable accusations. Hopefully most of the Autobots would see the sparkling as a good thing.

It was late. The corridors of the Ark were almost abandoned. He nodded and smiled at Bumblebee as the minibot walked past, and waved at a departing Wheeljack as he arrived at the rec room. It was kind of comfortable when everything was winding down for the night.

There was only one mech in the rec room. It was Optimus Prime.

“Good evening, sir,” Trailbreaker greeted. “Working late?”

“Hello, Trailbreaker.” The Prime’s voice was soft and pleasant. “Unfortunately. Reports wait for no mech.” He turned away from the dispenser, one full cube in each hand. “How are you – oh!”

Trailbreaker looked up at Optimus. There weren’t many mecha taller than him, but Optimus Prime definitely was. And now those blue optics were wide, focused down on him, looking so awestruck that Trailbreaker didn’t really know what to say. “Um. Sir?”

Optimus’ optics dropped to Trailbreaker’s chest. “Trailbreaker! Are you..? Forgive me.” He visibly pulled himself together. “I did not mean to assume. Please have a pleasant evening.”

Trailbreaker looked on in surprise as the Prime turned away, heading for the doorway slightly faster than his usual tempo. He was prepared to wager his entire week’s rations on Optimus knowing, somehow.

In fact, now that he thought about it, why shouldn’t he know? He was the Prime. That came with all sorts of strange supernatural knowledge.

“Prime, sir,” he called quietly.

“Hmm? Yes?” Optimus turned around, clearly making an effort to act nonchalant. “What is it?”

“I am,” Trailbreaker said simply. He watched as those optics widened again, and then crinkled in the corners in one of Optimus’ hidden grins. “How did you know?”

“The Matrix.” Suddenly Optimus was in front of him again, one hand half-raised as if to touch Trailbreaker’s chest plates. “It sensed it – him – in you. When…?”

“He will be due at the end of the year,” Trailbreaker replied, taking a guess at what the Prime was asking about. “I’m sorry, sir. It means I will be more of a burden to the Autobots than of actual use.”

“How can you say that?” Optimus breathed, optics finally lifting from Trailbreaker’s chest to his face. “A sparkling is a blessing. The first sparkling in eons…” He sounded almost reverent. “I’m honored that you’ve told me, Trailbreaker.”

Once again, Trailbreaker didn’t know what to say. It was turning into a default state for him. “But… I need so much fuel now. And there’s nothing to show for it.”

“There will be a sparkling to show for it.” Optimus put one large hand on Trailbreaker’s shoulder. “There will be a healthy carrier to show for it. And that’s worth all the fuel you require, my friend. Also,” and here he winked, “I believe Skyfire’s been itching to properly develop alternate ways to harvest energon from the Earth’s renewable resources. He is not happy or comfortable making weaponry. This gives me an excuse to finally authorize it without anyone complaining it’ll take focus away from the war. It will be a blessing for him as well, and if he can make it work, for all the Autobots. Now.” He sat down on a chair and waved toward the dispenser. “Please, don’t let me stop you. You need the fuel. Have you thought of a designation yet?”

Trailbreaker laughed. It felt really freeing after all the brooding he’d been doing. “A designation? I only let myself believe I could keep him a few hours ago.”

“There was doubt?” Optimus asked politely, but it was clear from his face that the idea of terminating the sparkling was uncomfortable for him.

Trailbreaker shrugged, trying to make light of it. “There are so many practical reasons why I shouldn’t go through with it, and very few reasons why I should. Plus, the sire doesn’t want him. I’ll have to go through with it alone.”

Optimus frowned. “I very much doubt you’ll be alone. There are too many mecha on this ship who dream of sparklings for you to soldier on through your carry without assistance.” He paused. “The sire doesn’t want him?”

“The sire freaked out,” Trailbreaker said, rather proud of how matter-of-factly it came out. “He said it was up to me what to do, and then he broke it off. What we had.” He considered for a moment. “I’m actually not sure what we had in the first place.”

Optimus nodded. “I see. Sometimes, mecha find it hard to be responsible for someone else. And a sparkling is pretty much the biggest responsibility anyone could ask for.” He stood up again, squeezed Trailbreaker’s shoulder. “Which is why I want to reassure you again that you won’t be alone in this. And please don’t worry about the Autobots.” He winked. “As far as I’m concerned, you have a more important duty than being a defensive tactician for the next months.”

Trailbreaker smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome. Now, go get some recharge. I suspect Ratchet will have my aft if I keep you awake any longer.”

That had Trailbreaker laughing. Not even Optimus Prime was safe from the Hatchet. “He might, sir. Pleasant recharge.”

“Pleasant recharge, Trailbreaker. And congratulations.”

“Thank you, Prime.” He watched as Optimus wandered out of the room, a happy bounce in his step. Their Prime was such a sap at spark.

But he gave good advice. Trailbreaker had to admit to himself that he felt about a metric ton lighter.

Recharge would come easy tonight. He just needed to down the last of his cubes first.


	6. Chapter 6

Trailbreaker headed to medbay as soon as he’d taken his first cubes of the day. He felt lighter than he had in days, almost a spring in his step. He smiled back at the mecha who smiled at him, returning Bumblebee’s wave with a grin. It was almost weird, feeling this good.

“Hey, you’re chipper today, ‘Breaker! What’s up?”

He turned toward Jazz. The saboteur was sauntering down the hall, an easy smirk on his face. “Hopefully a clean bill of health, sir. I’m headed to see Ratchet right now.”

“Guess you’re itchin’ t’ get back t’ regular duties, huh? Can’t say I blame ya.” Jazz winked. “Medical leave sucks slag.”

Trailbreaker nodded. There wouldn’t be any regular duties for him, not for a while, but Jazz didn’t need to know that. Not yet.

“Don’t let me keep ya. The Hatchet awaits!” Jazz threw him a lazy wave and set off towards the rec room.

The Hatchet awaited indeed. Trailbreaker wasn’t worried, though. He came with good news today.

“There you are,” Ratchet said impatiently as Trailbreaker entered medbay. “Took you the better part of the morning, didn’t it?”

Trailbreaker chuckled. “Well, I had to drink three cubes of energon first, Ratchet.”

“I suppose. Here, up on the berth. I take it from your mood that you’ve made a decision?”

Trailbreaker glanced around the medbay. Aside from the two of them, it was deserted. Not that he was ashamed… but he didn’t want everyone else to know yet either.

“Yeah,” he said when he was satisfied. “Yeah, I’ve decided. I’m keeping him.”

Ratchet’s face split in a broad smile. “Good. I didn’t want to pressure you into deciding one way or the other, but I’m very glad you are. I’m excited to meet the first sparkling in eons.” He tapped Trailbreaker’s knee. “Now, are you ready for full invasive surgery?”

“What!?” Trailbreaker asked, alarmed.

Ratchet snickered. _Snickered_. “I’m kidding! Don’t worry. Nothing more invasive than another thorough systems check to figure out the exact balance of supplements you need. And whether your fueling requirements have stabilized.” He gave Trailbreaker a sharp look. “And don’t you dare give me any slag about needing more fuel than we can afford. I’ll feed that sparkling of yours whatever I feel he requires.”

It was a nice way of looking at it, Trailbreaker thought. It was a bit easier to accept when he thought about it in those terms. “I talked to the Prime last night. He said he was going to authorize Skyfire to work on other ways of harvesting energon.”

“You told Prime, did you?” A small smile pulled one side of Ratchet’s mouth up. “No wonder he was happy as a lark this morning. He adores sparklings.”

“He guessed. So I told him.” Trailbreaker watched as Ratchet connected by now very familiar equipment. “I suppose they all need to be told soon anyway, won’t they?”

“Some will,” Ratchet agreed. “Prowl, obviously. Jazz, probably. They need to know to make their plans. The rest of command, as well as the other Autobots? It’s up to you when to tell them. We’re not going to force you to reveal more than you want to, Trailbreaker.” He glanced back, met Trailbreaker’s optics for a moment. “I assume you’ve told Hound and Mirage?”

Trailbreaker nodded. “And I talked to the sire. Before.”

Ratchet’s optics turned sharp. “Smokescreen.”

Trailbreaker wasn’t going to ask how he knew. They hadn’t been overly discreet, and he knew he’d had at least one slip of the tongue around Ratchet. “Yeah.”

Ratchet nodded. “For now, you can probably keep it secret from everyone else if you want to. As the months progress it’ll be harder to keep it hidden, partly because you’ll still be fueling more than usual. At some point, your t-cog will stop functioning too, and mecha will notice it when you stop taking drives with Hound.” He smirked. “Sunstreaker’s thrown legendary tantrums over the mud and filth you’ve left behind you on some of those occasions.”

“We do try not to drag in too much dirt.” Trailbreaker opened his wrist port at Ratchet’s prompting. “I guess it’ll be a while until I can go driving like that again. Prowl won’t want me patrolling.”

“Not patrolling doesn’t mean you can’t drive.” Ratchet plugged in a datapad, watched the monitors light up. “I’d like you to avoid the worst roads, yes, but until your transformation cog is shunted into subspace you should be able to drive. I’d recommend it, actually, to keep your systems running smoothly.”

“I will? That’s awesome.” Trailbreaker grinned hugely. “I thought you wanted me to not go driving over bumpy terrain.”

Ratchet activated another monitor. “I did say something along those lines, didn’t I? But you should be fine for driving, as long as you don’t put your frame through too much stress. I was mainly concerned with your newly-healed fractures, not your sparkling.”

There was the sound of something shattering against the floor from near the medbay entrance. “Sparkling!?”

Ratchet sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Primus save me from idiots who _don’t knock_! Sideswipe, get over here.”

The red warrior appeared behind the monitors, staring at Trailbreaker with bright optics. “There’s a sparkling!?”

“That information is still classified until Trailbreaker decides to make it official,” Ratchet scolded sharply. “Until he decides who can know, you keep this to yourself, do you hear? Or so help me, I’ll reformat you into something so demeaning even your own brother won’t want anything to do with you. Like a sewage processing machine, possibly.”

“I didn’t mean to overhear.” Sideswipe sounded contrite, but he was still staring at Trailbreaker in what could only be complete awe. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” At some point, everyone had to know. And Sideswipe wasn’t really the worst one. At least he’d probably be safe from pranks for a good while. “Just – please don’t tell anyone. Or act weird.”

Ratchet snorted. “Good save.”

“I won’t be able to keep it from Sunny,” Sideswipe said apologetically. “Our bond doesn’t really allow for secrets. And he felt what I felt right now, so it won’t take him long to sniff it out.”

Ratchet gave him a pointed look. “Then tell Sunstreaker he needs to keep it a secret too. Or there’ll be two pretty waste processors sitting on my desk.”

Sideswipe winced. “He doesn’t like that at all. He says, and this is a direct quite: ‘that is nasty, and I’m offended he thinks we can’t keep a secret’. Which, I agree. Aside from you and Prowl, how long did it take before the rest of the Autobots learned we were twins? We kept that under wraps for a damn long time.”

“True. Fine, I suppose you can be trusted.” Ratchet gave the red chest plate a push. “Now, you’re not hurt, you’re not sick, so get out of my medbay, you pain in my aft.”

Sideswipe smirked. “But Ratchet, I thought you enjoyed that. You certainly said as much a few nights back.”

Trailbreaker stared as Ratchet blushed, and then clearly tried to cover it up by acting furious. Not that Sideswipe gave him the chance to get any words out.

“Anyway, I came with energon. Which is kind of splattered across the floor now, so, uh, you’re welcome, I guess? But I’ll get out of your lair. See you, ‘Breaker!” He span on one pede and disappeared behind the monitors again.

“Wipe that up before you go!” Ratchet called after him, shaking his head. “Slagger.”

“You know you love me!” Sideswipe singsonged, though it sounded like he actually was mopping up the spill.

“Yeah, like a rust infection!” Ratchet grumbled, but there was a small smile on his face that Trailbreaker would have been sure he’d imagined if the expression hadn’t lingered.

He leaned back on Ratchet’s prompt, listening to Sideswipe whistling – whistling! It had to be a recording or something – as he cleaned, and counted the rivets on the ceiling again. This time, instead of drawing defensive lines, he imagined… Tiny hands. Bright, curious optics. A round tummy, short, kicking legs.

He was beginning to get excited now.

“Okay, you’re good.” Ratchet leaned into his field of vision and smiled. “I’m going to send First Aid by you later with supplements. You’re still on ten cubes a day, but I’d think that we can lower that back to eight once the supplements start taking effect. And you will drink those cubes. No running around half-fueled.”

“Yes sir.” Trailbreaker returned the smile. “Not taking any chances with him.”

“That’s what I want to hear. Now get out of here.”

He pushed himself up as soon as Ratchet moved aside. “Am I still on medical leave?”

Ratchet smiled. “For a few days more. Enjoy it. You’ll be too tired to move soon enough.”

Trailbreaker figured that was probably true. And for the first time, he didn’t really even mind.

He tried to recharge some more. That one night without recharge still rode him, meaning naps were a necessity. Plus, there was someone else sharing his energy now. It figured he would tire faster.

Unfortunately, he had too much to think about to recharge properly. When he finally managed, the ping at the door woke him almost immediately.

First Aid’s happy countenance beamed up at him when the door slid open. “Hey, Trailbreaker! Ratchet sent me. Can I come in?”

He’d forgotten that First Aid was supposed to come by. The timing could have been better, but he didn’t really mind First Aid’s company. “Yeah, sure. Sorry about the mess.” He stepped aside to let First Aid into his quarters, wincing slightly at all the empty energon cubes. He was usually better at tidying than this.

“Oh, don’t worry about it!” First Aid chirped. “I’m used to that, Blades is a proper slob. Worse than you’d believe. If Hot Spot didn’t keep nagging him, we’d be swimming in empty cubes by now.” He giggled. “Besides, you’ve had other things on your mind.”

Trailbreaker let the door slide shut. “You could say that.”

First Aid turned to him and pulled a handful of datapads from subspace. They were followed by a box that turned out to be full of small packets. “Here. These are the additives. One packet three times a day, dissolved in energon. I tried to add flavoring to them to negate the taste, because not everyone likes that, and if you want you can split it over more than three cubes a day.” He put the box on Trailbreaker’s small table. “Ratchet gave me these datapads on sparklet development. Want to look at them with me? We can skip the graphic parts.”

Trailbreaker chuckled. “I think I’ll be living the graphic parts, so we should probably look at those too.” He gestured towards the berth. “I don’t have a couch, I’m afraid. Sit with me?” He sat down on one end, making sure to leave plenty of space for First Aid.

For a while they just sat together, looking through the datapads First Aid had brought. Some of the information Trailbreaker already knew, and a lot of it was in heavy medicalese that he needed First Aid to explain, but for the most part it was useful. And enjoyable, which he hadn’t expected. He’d never spent much time with First Aid before – mostly he’d just been a face in the medbay, someone who assisted Ratchet when the CMO needed it. He perhaps shouldn’t be so surprised that First Aid was pleasant company, considering his mild nature, but it turned out that the Protectobot was funny and clever as well as kind. Time flew by.

“I should go,” First Aid said finally. They’d gone through several of the datapads, but there were still more left, and First Aid separated them into two piles as he tucked them away. “We can do this again if you’d like?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Trailbreaker replied. He smiled a bit for good measure. “This was nice.”

“I’m glad. I don’t want to bore you.” First Aid’s visor brightened in a recognizable smile. “And I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me? For what?” It could be for the rescue, of course, that was the only think Trailbreaker could think of. But that was months ago, he’d have thought they’d moved past that by now.

“For letting me be in the loop from the beginning,” First Aid clarified. “For letting me learn and examine you and stuff. Not everyone would be comfortable having a trainee prodding and pushing at him in a situation like this.”

“You’re welcome,” Trailbreaker replied, almost by rote. That option hadn’t even occurred to him. “And it’s no problem. Ratchet was right, it’s a good learning opportunity for you. Judging from some of the reactions I’ve gotten, this might rub off. There might be more sparklings in a while.” He chuckled, and First Aid giggled, and everything felt very easy and simple suddenly. “Besides, your touch is often gentler than Ratchet’s. So I really don’t mind the prodding and pushing either.” His systems pinged him, and he sighed. “I need to get some energon. Well, a lot of energon.”

“Ratchet said he hoped you could fuel less in a little while,” First Aid said sympathetically. “Hot Spot asked that I bring cubes back for all of them, so we can go there together. Then you’re not the only one withdrawing more energon than you can carry in both hands.”

“Sure.” Trailbreaker smiled, but the comment stung a little. He reminded himself that First Aid didn’t mean it that way – but being reminded that he fueled as much as an entire gestalt was not comfortable.

Maybe he’d get used to it. And it was only temporary. He hoped.

He let none of those feelings show on his face as he followed First Aid out the door. No point giving the _Ark_ anything else to gossip about. They’d learn the truth soon enough as it was.


	7. Chapter 7

The Autobots did find out soon enough, and it was much sooner than Trailbreaker would have preferred. The Decepticons launched a full-scale attack on a nuclear power station barely a week later. It was large, very close to a big city, full of humans working the day shift, and Trailbreaker had to stay behind.

Prowl gave him a firm but apologetic look. “I know you would rather help. And that keeping you here monitoring the battle alongside Blaster is not how you would be most helpful. But you know why it has to be so.”

“I know, sir.” Trailbreaker stood aside to let the exiting Autobots pass. “I’ll do my best where I am. Good luck.”

Watching everyone drive away hurt. Even with the sympathetic looks Hound and Mirage gave him as they walked out to join the rest.

Blaster clapped him on the shoulder. “For what it’s worth, mech, your company’s appreciated. I’m gonna put that tactical processor of yours to good use.”

Actually working from the command hub wasn’t too bad. Trailbreaker got to help directing the soldiers to where the big picture said they were needed, which led to a perfect moment where Sideswipe took down Thundercracker singlehandedly.

But it was hard, watching Defensor shield the humans and feeling like he should have been there. And when Cliffjumper got caught in a building collapse and had to be dug out after the battle had ended so he could be whisked away in Ratchet’s alt mode for extensive surgery, Trailbreaker could have kicked himself.

He knew he’d made the right choice. That didn’t mean he didn’t feel bad about it.

“So,” Blaster said, finally disconnecting from the mainframe. “You don’t have to say if you don’t want to, but I’m askin’ anyway. Why aren’t you out there with the rest of them?”

“I’m on restricted duty,” Trailbreaker replied carefully. It was a non-answer, and Blaster clearly knew it.

He snorted. “Well, duh. I figured that. But why? You’re not still damaged from the last battle, are you?”

“No.” Trailbreaker sighed. “It’s… kind of a secret. At least for a while longer.”

Blaster gave him an unimpressed look. “You know I’m not the only one who’s gonna ask. They all saw you weren’t there today. And if I know Cliffjumper right, he for one won’t let it lie.” He turned back to the monitor. “You don’t have to tell me. But you gotta be prepared for whatever it is not staying a secret for long.”

In an effort to prove Blaster wrong, Trailbreaker fetched his full daily allotment of cubes while the others were still on their way back from the power station. He subspaced all but one, adding a pouch of the additives First Aid had brought to it and drank it as he walked back toward his quarters. Hiding this aftermath out until battle-ready tempers had cooled some seemed like the best option.

Of course the plan failed.

Ratchet was first back, sirens on and lights flashing as he sped through the corridors. As soon as he saw Trailbreaker, he slid to a stop. “Get him out so I can transform!”

Trailbreaker didn’t dare disobey. That tone meant Cliffjumper’s life was at serious risk. He dispersed the now empty cube and reached in to pick up the red minibot, cradling him securely in his arms. Ratchet transformed in a flash and flat out ran towards the medbay, and Trailbreaker followed as fast as he could.

It didn’t take long before the medbay filled up. Perceptor arrived as Trailbreaker put Cliffjumper down on a berth, a soot-singed Hoist right on his heels. Sideswipe supported Sunstreaker to a berth, the golden frontliner cursing up a storm all the while. Hound came in carrying his own arm, Bumblebee was carried in by a limping Ironhide. The Aerialbots came in with an unconscious Fireflight between them. First Aid came in in alt mode, and Hot Spot ignored his own mangled leg to help unload Streetwise. As soon as First Aid transformed he was leaning over his brother, getting to work on his crushed chest plating.

Trailbreaker had never felt so useless in all his life.

He snuck out, determined to get out of the medics’ way. But the hallway outside was crowded, full of Autobots with minor injuries and worried faces. He didn’t get very far before someone stepped in front of him.

“Where the frag were you?” Brawn growled.

Trailbreaker didn’t have a good reply. He didn’t think Brawn was in the mood to accept any form of excuse, either.

“You could have kept them safe!” The angry minibot shoved him, which, since this was Brawn, forced Trailbreaker a couple of steps backward. “That’s your _job!_ You’re the fricking _shield_ , and you _stay here!?_ ”

“I’m on limited duty,” Trailbreaker tried, fairly sure it wouldn’t do any good. “I wanted to be there, believe me, but –“

“Limited duty! Like any Autobot worth his mettle would have let that stop him!” Brawn wasn’t the only one angry now. Everyone seemed to be glaring. Brawn shoved Trailbreaker again, and Trailbreaker let himself be shoved. It seemed safer than talking back.

“It’s your fault Cliffjumper’s damaged!” Brawn was ranting now. “And the humans. You should have fricking _been there_ , Trailbreaker!”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Trailbreaker bit back as Brawn shoved him again. He stood straight and shoved back, finally angry. “You think I didn’t want to be there? You think I don’t feel guilty about every scrape, every injury, every damn thing!? I would have been there! It’s not my fault that the rules say carrying mechs can’t be on front-line duty! I _wanted_ to be there!”

Brawn stared. He wasn’t the only one.

“ _Carrying_ mechs?” Huffer said slowly. “Really?”

Frag. Trailbreaker sighed, one hand rising to his face. “Forget it. I’ll just get out of the way.”

He turned around, intending to make a quick escape, but the hallway was crowded with mechs. And they were all staring at him.

“You’re _carrying_?” Powerglide stared at him. “How?”

“How does anyone end up carrying, ya dumbaft?” There was definitely mockery in Huffer’s tone now, especially when he turned back to Trailbreaker. “But yeah, how did _you_ end up carrying?”

At the edge of the crowd stood Smokescreen, expressionless, staring silently at Trailbreaker.

He couldn’t take this anymore.

Pushing past Huffer and Brawn, Trailbreaker shoveled his way through the crowd. He tried to ignore the shouting. And the cursing. And the way Smokescreen’s optics burned into the back of his helm. He almost crashed into Skyfire as he turned the corner, and if Skyfire had been any less skilled at dodging smaller mecha they would both have hit the ground in a pile. But he sidestepped, Trailbreaker hurried past, and didn’t stop until he reached his own quarters.

He locked the door. It wouldn’t stop anyone who really tried to come in, but it would deter the others. Hopefully.

An incoming comm distracted him from crashing down on his berth. And it wasn’t someone he could ignore. ::Jazz.::

::Trailbreaker.:: The third-in-command’s voice was inflectionless. ::Thought the agreement was t’ keep this under wraps for a while longer. Not reveal it in a crowded hallway in th’ aftermath of a battle.::

::Yes, sir.:: He sighed. ::I’m sorry, I lost my temper.::

Jazz’s tone turned almost understanding. ::I don’t blame ya. Red shot me the surveillance of that whole incident. Ya okay?::

He didn’t even know how to answer that. It would take longer than Jazz probably had. ::Probably not, sir.::

::Fair ‘nough. Ya need some time?::

::No, sir. I’m already not pulling my weight around here, I don’t need to be even less useful.::

Now it was Jazz’s turn to sigh. ::I know ya feel that way. Ya don’t have to. Ya do have value t’ the Autobots, Trailbreaker, beyond that force field o’ yours.:: His tone changed from soothing and personal to professional. ::Th’ officers have all been told t’ keep an eye out for the kind o’ behavior ya encountered today. We won’t tolerate anyone throwin’ slag your way.::

::I appreciate that, sir.:: Not that he didn’t get why the others were angry.

::Good. Take the rest of the night off. And let us know if there are more problems, okay?::

::Yes, sir.:: There probably would be. And he probably wouldn’t report it, not unless things went too far. ::Thank you.::

::Sure.:: The connection closed.

Trailbreaker was tempted to just drop back on the berth and recharge the rest of the day away. But he couldn’t yet. He needed to refuel again first.

“You picked the wrong mech for your carrier, bitlet,” he sighed, one hand briefly touching his chest plates. “But I’m not going to starve you before you’re even born.”

He wasn’t cut out for this. But he’d do his best anyway.

He’d been in recharge for about an hour when he was woken by a ping at the door. Trailbreaker rose, more than a little groggy, and not at all keen to let anyone inside. But that was Bluestreak outside the door, and Trailbreaker was fairly sure that if anyone would show up just to be nice, it was Bluestreak.

“Hey, Blue.”

“Hi, Trailbreaker.” Bluestreak was smiling, somewhat shyly. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Trailbreaker smiled back. It was hard not to, with Bluestreak. “You weren’t injured today?”

“Minor. The benefits of being hidden on top of a building some distance away from the battle and shooting at seekers.” Bluestreak turned to face him as Trailbreaker closed the door. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how to be diplomatic about this, so I’m just going to do what I do best and ask, okay?”

Damn. So much for him showing up to be nice.

“Are you really carrying?”

Trailbreaker sighed. He was probably going to get that question a million times. But when he looked up, there was no disbelief in Bluestreak’s optics. No mocking. No doubt, either. Just this excited kind of hopefulness that reminded Trailbreaker more than a little of Mirage.

So he moderated his tone. Bluestreak hadn’t hurled any insults at him earlier, after all. “Yeah, I am. Bitlet’s due in ten months’ time.”

Bluestreak grinned widely. “Oh Primus, that’s so awesome! What are you going to call him? Do you think he’ll look like you? Can I hold him when he’s emerged?”

Trailbreaker laughed. Bluestreak’s excitement was a welcome relief. “Sure you can. I’m going to need good babysitters, after all, if I’m going to manage this.”

Bluestreak’s doorwings rose as he canted his head. “Why? Not that I think you’ll lack for that, because I heard what they were gossiping about in the rec room after almost everyone had gotten fixed up, and I think you’ll need to set up a roster, but why wouldn’t you manage? More importantly,” and Bluestreak looked a lot like Prowl when his optics narrowed like that, “why does it sound like you think you’re alone in this? What about the sire?”

“It was a casual thing,” Trailbreaker admitted. He didn’t want a lot of mecha to know, considering there were only so many Autobots on the Ark and someone would be bound to make the connection to Smokescreen at some point. “Turns out it wasn’t meant to last. Don’t worry about it, Blue. I’ll be okay alone. I’m on extra supplements and stuff, and I’ll have help.”

“Yeah, you will,” Bluestreak said decisively. “Me included. So just shout out if there’s anything I can do for you, okay? Both now and after.”

“Thanks, Blue.” His mood must be affected by the sparkling already – he was almost overwhelmed by Bluestreak’s kindness. “I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.” Bluestreak winked. “Tell you the truth, I’m kind of jealous. I want a heap of bitlets underfoot. At some point, anyway. So you better put me up on that babysitter list.”

“A heap, huh?” He smiled. “Sounds like a lot. You’ll be out of commission for ages.”

There was something clever in Bluestreak’s grin. “Oh, I don’t have to carry all of them. I’m working on ‘Jackie, he’s not unwilling to carry about half.”

Huh. Trailbreaker hadn’t actually seen that coming. “Wheeljack, huh? Didn’t know you two were a thing.”

Bluestreak blushed a bit. It was cute. “We haven’t actually announced it ship-wide. We’re not Sideswipe. But… It’s good, ‘Breaker. It’s real good.”

“Has to be, if you’re planning sparklings already,” Trailbreaker teased.

“I guess.” Bluestreak giggled. “And I mean it about the babysitter list, by the way. And put Wheeljack on it too, while you’re at it.”

Trailbreaker stared. He’d thought that was a joke. “There’s actually a list?”

Bluestreak snorted. “Are you kidding? Half the mecha on the Ark want on that thing. You’re going to have to field off Beachcomber with a shovel if you want him to stay away, by the way. And don’t even get me started on Optimus.”

“Yeah, I know about Prime. He’s a big softie.” And surely Bluestreak had to be exaggerating about how many mecha wanted to babysit his sparkling. Surely.

“Oh, and by the way?” Bluestreak looked serious for a moment. “Whoever sparked you and then left? Major aft who doesn’t know what he’s missing. You’re great, Trailbreaker.” He walked past Trailbreaker and palmed the door open. “And congratulations. I know you’ll be an awesome parent.”

Well. It was nice that someone had faith in him, at least. Maybe he really would do okay.


	8. Chapter 8

Trailbreaker’s sparkling was the main conversation point in the Ark for more than a week. He was getting so tired of it that he contemplated asking Sideswipe’s help to start a prank war just to give them something else to focus on.

At least the incredulity had died down some. The doubtful looks and faint sneers had hurt a lot more than he’d thought, even though there weren’t that many of them. It didn’t help that Hound and Mirage were on a mission together somewhere and would be for a while. It left him without his two best friends, and he hadn’t realized how much he’d counted on them being there for him.

Strangely though, their absence didn’t mean he was alone.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had taken to intervening whenever someone gave Trailbreaker slag, whether he was there or not. It had only taken a few days of Sunstreaker glaring at the offenders before they’d caved and stopped. At least they’d stopped saying things in Trailbreaker’s presence. It was a relief, even though he was surprised by the twins’ behavior.

He almost never had to sit alone in the rec room, either. Bluestreak would sit down with him, or Bumblebee, or any of the command staff – which was beyond awkward, Trailbreaker wasn’t sure how to act when mecha he was used to obeying without question suddenly sat down and tried to socialize with him – or any of the scientists or medics. Skyfire was pleasant company, normally calm and friendly, and he’d spent several fueling breaks trying to explain his solar energon harvesters. Trailbreaker didn’t understand at all, but he appreciated the company and the enthusiasm anyway. Wheeljack was more boisterous, and clearly as interested in the sparkling as Bluestreak had indicated, and Perceptor was downright quiet. It was nice, having mecha seek him out like this.

Trailbreaker’s favorite fueling companion was First Aid.

First Aid was among the ones who sought him out the most. In the last week, Trailbreaker had learned that First Aid had a shrewd sense of humor, and the mild exterior hid a core of solid titanium. He was kind, but he was far from stupid, and he didn’t tolerate bad behavior from anybody. He was also very curious, and asked a lot of questions about Cybertron and the days before the war. In return, Trailbreaker learned about First Aid – his relationship to his brothers, his passion for helping, how much he loved Earth.

It seemed like First Aid managed to match his fuel breaks to Trailbreaker’s more often than not. Which was impressive, considering how often Trailbreaker had to fuel.

First Aid was also present for all his examinations now. And there were a lot of them. Ratchet still had him on high energon rations, and had increased his supplements to the point where his energon was more solid than liquid. Soon he’d need to eat it with a spoon. And still Ratchet worried.

Trailbreaker didn’t really mind the worrying. Ratchet worried because he cared. It was far from an ideal time or place to have a sparkling, especially not without a sire present. Trailbreaker knew that. But Smokescreen had shown no sign of changing his mind, and Trailbreaker had left him alone. He wasn’t even sure what he would have done if Smokescreen had suddenly been interested. That ship had sailed.

Today’s examination was no different than the others. Ratchet hemmed and hawed behind First Aid’s back, looking at readings and double-checking his apprentice’s work. Not that there was anything wrong – First Aid had quickly become an expert in how to take the right vitals on a carrying mech. Trailbreaker knew that First Aid didn’t mind his mentor hovering, though. He’d confessed on one of their many shared fuel breaks that he found it reassuring to know that his work would be checked.

“I still don’t like your readings,” Ratchet said finally. “The bitlet is fine, but it’s taking more out of you than I’d like. If this keeps up, I might have to put you on berth rest for the duration.”

Trailbreaker winced. “Primus. And I thought it was bad enough to be on light duty.”

“We don’t have to make the decision yet.” Ratchet tapped one of the screens. “But in a couple of weeks, if these readings don’t improve, we’ll need to consider it. This would be easier if the sire was present, or even if you had a substitute, but we’ll make do. The supplements help, but they don’t help enough.”

Trailbreaker nodded. “You know I’ll do as you want, Ratchet. Even if I don’t like it.”

Ratchet gave him a rare smile. “I know. You’re one of my better patients.” He patted his apprentice on the back. “Finish up here. You know what to do.”

“Yes, Ratchet.” First Aid’s smile was audible in his voice, and his visor brightened with it. “I do.” His hands were gentle and thorough as he disconnected all the equipment from Trailbreaker’s medical ports. “Now, aren’t you due for a break?”

“Don’t sass me.” Ratchet shoulder-checked him as he walked past. “I’m still your boss.”

First Aid smiled again and winked at Trailbreaker. “Yes, Ratchet.”

Trailbreaker managed to wait until Ratchet had closed the office door behind him before chuckling. “I think you’re one of the few who get away with talking back at him like that.”

“Me and Optimus and Wheeljack. The twins try, but they’re too easily swayed by him still.” First Aid giggled, even as his hands were steady as he closed the covers over Trailbreaker’s medical ports. “He could do with more mecha taking care of him, but he’s a stubborn aft. Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Trailbreaker promised. He winced as he sat up. “Primus. I feel as heavy as a triple-changer already, and he says it’s going to get worse?”

“The bitlet’s protoform is only barely formed.” First Aid nodded at where the scans were still up on the screen. “The further into the carrying you get, the heavier you’ll feel, I’m afraid.”

Trailbreaker shrugged. “Probably worth it, right? Anyway, it’s not like I’ll notice if I’m on berth rest.” He sighed. “Can be as heavy as I need to, then.”

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry about that.” First Aid patted his arm, and somehow it felt friendly instead of just sympathetic. “I know how much you hate not being able to contribute the way you want.”

He didn’t offer platitudes, or suggest that it was worth it, or try to convince Trailbreaker that they were doing fine without him and he should just focus on the sparkling for now. Somehow, First Aid already knew him better than that.

“Thanks.” He took First Aid’s offered hand and pulled himself to his feet. “When are you off shift?”

First Aid looked apologetic somehow. Trailbreaker had gotten good at reading his expressions, even with the mask and visor. “I’m pulling a double-shift today. Ratchet and Wheeljack are doing the last reconstructive surgery on Cliffjumper’s frame later, and I have to cover his shift. I won’t be off until late.”

“Then I guess I’ll see you when I see you.” Trailbreaker tried to make light of it. He didn’t have a right to monopolize First Aid’s time, even if First Aid was fast becoming a good friend. “Hopefully it’ll be quiet here.”

“Are you on monitor duty again?” First Aid asked, taking a step back and making sure Trailbreaker could stand and walk on his own. Which he could, he wasn’t that weakened - and he forcibly suppressed the part of him that thought ‘yet’ – but First Aid always made sure.

“Yep. It leaves another mech free for patrol.” He smiled. “Sideswipe’s thanked me personally for that.” Monitor duty was one of the tasks Ratchet had allowed Trailbreaker to take on, and Prowl had taken advantage of that to put Sideswipe on patrol duty instead. Sideswipe was probably the mech with the absolute least patience for staring at screens all day.

First Aid giggled again. “He would. I’ll try to get there for your evening fuel, okay?”

“Sounds great. Have a good shift.”

He shouldn’t feel lonely just walking away from First Aid. But he did.

Hopefully Hound and Mirage would be back soon, so he’d have someone else to bother as well.

First Aid didn’t make it for the evening fuel. Trailbreaker stayed seated for a while longer than usual, but aside from Bumblebee, the rec was empty.

“Guess you’re anxious for Hound to get back from his mission, huh.” Bumblebee offered him an understanding smile, after catching him glancing towards the door for the fifth time in as many minutes. “Either that, or you’re itching to get away from me. You can leave if you want, you know. I won’t be offended.”

Trailbreaker winced. “Sorry, I’m distracted, I know. It’s not you. I’m just…” He didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t worry about it.” Bumblebee waved the apology away. “I’m the same way whenever my closest friends are out there. It’s hard, staying behind and just waiting for them to come back.” He winced, probably realizing what he said and to whom. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re right. It sucks, being left behind.” He downed the rest of his viscous energon. “But they’ll be back soon, I hope. And eventually, I’ll be going back out there.”

“Bet your priorities will change, though. Having a bitlet to take care of.” Bumblebee’s smile had turned encouraging, almost hopeful, and still there was something knowing in it. “You’ll have someone really worth fighting for.”

“Yeah… Yeah, I guess I will.” He hadn’t thought about it in those terms. Hadn’t quite realized that his sparkling would make that much of a difference. Still didn’t, really, but then that might change with time. For now, he offered Bumblebee a small smile back. “Thanks. I think I needed to hear that.”

“Sure, yeah.”

Trailbreaker dispersed his empty cube. “I think I should go, though. This bitlet is taking a lot out of me. Thanks for keeping me company, Bee.”

“Likewise.” Bumblebee grinned. “You’re not the only one whose friends are absent right now, you know. I appreciate the company too.”

That was right. Trailbreaker had forgotten that Windcharger and Brawn had gone with Mirage and Hound, and Cliffjumper was still laid up in medbay and awaiting more surgery. Bumblebee was alone most of the time now, too. “Well, come sit down whenever. I’m in here like eight times a day.”

“I know.” Bumblebee’s expression was all sympathy. “When’s Ratchet gonna let you back on regular energon? We can spoon-feed you the stuff you’re downing soon.”

Trailbreaker shrugged. “When he’s satisfied. Which, knowing Ratchet, will be when this bitlet is out of me and old enough to move into his own quarters.” He stood, laboriously, making sure his legs held him before stepping away. “See you tomorrow, Bee.”

Bumblebee waved, looking more than a little relieved that Trailbreaker didn’t seem ready to fall over on him.

The way back to his quarters seemed to be getting longer every day. He blamed the tiredness, the fatigue that seemed to settle into his very struts at the end of the day, no matter how many cubes he’d had of the thick, almost jelly-textured energon.

Maybe Ratchet was right. Maybe he needed to be on berth rest. Though spending the next almost nine months in a berth in medbay struck Trailbreaker as a particularly vicious form of punishment.

Then again, First Aid would be there. So at least he wouldn’t be all alone.

As if on cue, something nudged him from the inside.

He stopped dead in the hallway, one hand placed on the plating over his gestational tank. The little nudge came again.

Trailbreaker couldn’t have stopped the slow smile that spread over his face even had he wanted to.

“That’s right, bitty. I have you, don’t I? Can’t be alone then.”

Slowly, surely, and without taking his hand away from his middle, Trailbreaker ambled back to his quarters and his berth. The sparkling kept nudging at him the entire time.


	9. Chapter 9

“Sorry, Trailbreaker.” Ratchet sighed. “Sparkling’s thriving, and you’re right that the protoform is moving, but you’re not doing well. I can’t really increase the amount of additives you get in your energon any more either, your tank won’t have time to absorb it. There’s one more thing we can try, and if that doesn’t work, you’re on berth rest I’m afraid.”

Trailbreaker nodded. He’d had a feeling it was coming – it had gotten harder and harder to actually move around, he’d felt heavy and weak and dizzy. He wasn’t very happy about it, but he understood. “What’s the thing?”

Ratchet held up a needle and a bag of faintly glowing blue fluid. “We can try putting it directly in your lines. That’s in addition to the supplements, not instead of them. Maybe that’ll bring you up to where you need to be.”

“What about taking his force field generator offline? Or his radio array?” First Aid asked. “Won’t that help?”

“The radio array is already offline,” Ratchet replied. “And the force field generator is too integral to his frame, tied to too many systems and lines. It’ll take surgery to take it offline fully, and I won’t risk the sparkling on that, not unless I have to. We’ll try this first, and if it doesn’t work I’m reasonably sure berth rest will do the trick.”

Reasonably sure.

Trailbreaker wasn’t sure he liked those odds.

Ratchet hooked him up to the IV. “You’ll stay here for two hours every day, absorbing as much of this as you can. We’ll reexamine in a few days, to see how your levels have changed. Hopefully this will do the trick.”

There wasn’t much he could do aside from leaning back and making himself comfortable. He sighed, resigning himself to reforming the battle lines drawn between the rivets in the ceiling. He’d spent so much time on a medbay berth by now, he’d had time to reenact pretty much every battle tactic Prowl had ever taught him.

First Aid’s face came into view, visor bright and encouraging. “Do you want a game or something? A book file?”

Well, at least he wouldn’t be left completely to his own devices.

As well as threatening him with berth rest, Ratchet had seen fit to put him on full medical leave. Which meant Trailbreaker had nothing to fill his days. He couldn’t move much without getting overly tired, he couldn’t go anywhere, he couldn’t even spend all day watching monitors. He had a sneaky feeling that Ratchet was trying to trick him into staying all day in berth anyway just because he had absolutely nothing else to do.

Well, Trailbreaker wouldn’t. Not until he had to. He was already useless enough, the least he could do was be company for anyone else who needed it. Like Bumblebee, still on edge and waiting for Cliffjumper to be released from medbay. Or Sunstreaker, if Sideswipe and Ratchet were both on duty. Or Bluestreak, if Wheeljack was buried in work again. Or anyone, really.

He spent pretty much all day in the rec room, aside from the two hours of medbay time that Ratchet demanded. There wasn’t much to do in the rec room either, but it was better than his quarters.

The sparkling kept nudging at him. It was strange, but really nice.

There was a rhythm to the rec room. Everyone would come by in the morning for fuel, then it would be almost empty for a while, except for the stragglers and sometimes the science staff. Then there would be another wave before the second shift started, and then another when the first shift ended, and then the mecha who were going on third shift would spend a while in the rec room, talking and socializing. Trailbreaker had placed himself right in the middle of the room, which meant he saw a lot of different mecha through the day.

He hadn’t really talked to this one before, though.

“Still mostly stationary, huh?” Streetwise said, smiling as he sat down. “Aid told me you might be sitting here. Said you’re only just staying out of medbay full-time.”

“Hi,” Trailbreaker said, offering a small smile and taking another mouthful of practically solid fuel. “He did, did he?”

Streetwise shrugged, clearly unrepentant of whatever break of confidentiality he’d helped create. “Yeah. Apparently he’ll be stuck on duty most of the day. He gave the distinct impression that you needed company.”

Trailbreaker couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped. “Sounds like First Aid. Tell him I’m okay, would you?” He knew Streetwise was likely in contact with his gestalt brother right now.

“He’s telling me to not accept any excuses.” Streetwise grinned. “And to remind you that Ratchet is checking your vitals again tomorrow.”

“Like I could forget my own judgment day.” Trailbreaker shook his head. “Thanks, though.”

“That bad, huh?”

“If my readings don’t improve, I’m looking at spending the next eight months in a med berth.” Trailbreaker swallowed the last of his fuel. “Not exactly what I want to be doing.”

“Yeah, I get that. I almost went crazy just from a week and a half on my back.” Streetwise raised his cube, pointed at Trailbreaker with it. “You could go see him, you know. First Aid. That might soothe his worries.”

“I’ve already spent two hours in medbay today,” Trailbreaker replied. “He wants me to come back?”

“He doesn’t say it,” Streetwise said, cryptically and with a satisfied smirk. “But I think it’s a good idea.”

Trailbreaker didn’t understand. And honestly, the idea of walking to the medbay again wasn’t that tempting. But if First Aid wanted him there for some reason… “Is Ratchet there?”

“He’s with Wheeljack, working on Cliffjumper again. It’s the last surgery he’ll need, or so I’m told.” Streetwise seemed completely unashamed of knowing that kind of private information.

Trailbreaker pursed his lips. “Fine. But if you’re messing with me and making me walk back there for nothing, I’ll sic First Aid on you.”

Streetwise laughed. “Got it.” He drained his cube. “Well, I’ve got to go. I have patrol. See you around, Trailbreaker.”

As Streetwise walked away, Trailbreaker pushed to his feet and headed for the medbay. It was slow, steady going, and even moving this carefully drained his fuel levels alarmingly fast.

He had a feeling he knew what Ratchet’s readings would say tomorrow.

The medbay was empty, at least at first glance. One of the back rooms were locked, the red light shining over the door. That was probably where they were working on Cliffjumper.

“First Aid?” Trailbreaker shuffled into the room, heading for his customary berth. “You here?”

“Oh, Trailbreaker! Streets said you might drop by.” First Aid beamed at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Like slag,” Trailbreaker replied truthfully. “Business as usual, in other words.” He glanced around at the large empty room. “Quiet day, huh?”

“Yes. I don’t mind, it’s given me time to look over some more files.” First Aid nodded towards a med berth. “Which is why I’m glad you stopped by. I wanted to do your tests now, if that’s okay. Before Ratchet does them tomorrow.”

He didn’t say ‘and you fail them’, but Trailbreaker heard the words even so. He nodded. “Sure. I don’t mind you using me as a practice subject, you know that.”

“Oh, this isn’t for practice.” First Aid hooked up the equipment to Trailbreaker’s frame. “I wanted to establish a baseline. I read about something that might be worth a try, but we won’t know if it actually works unless we have recent test results to compare.”

“Really?” Trailbreaker brutally squashed the faint tendril of hope that he wouldn’t be stuck on a berth for the rest of the year. “What kind of something?”

“Not something to be discussed here.” First Aid patted his hand. “If I get the readings I want from this, I’d like to do a bit more research. I’ll come by your quarters later.”

“Sure, if that’s what you want.” He couldn’t quite see why something couldn’t be discussed in medbay, but he didn’t mind looking forward to First Aid visiting him either. They still had a few of those sparkling files to go through.

He was so familiar with this procedure now, he almost thought he could have done it himself. He didn’t bother looking up at the ceiling this time – he had no new battle lines to trace, anyway. Instead, he dimmed his optics and settled for a light recharge. First Aid would wake him when it was time for him to move.

It seemed like only moments had passed when Trailbreaker was nudged. First Aid waited for him to wake up fully before helping him sit up. Most of the equipment was already disconnected, and Trailbreaker was a little surprised that he’d managed to recharge through that. First Aid had an incredibly gentle touch, but it still usually felt weird when the monitors and leads were unplugged. And this time he hadn’t even noticed.

Huh.

“So, what’s the verdict, doc?”

First Aid sighed. “I think you know. Ratchet won’t be pleased.” He cleared away the last machine. “Give me a moment to store these results on my datapad and pick something up, and I’ll walk you back, okay? Hoist is coming on shift any minute.”

Trailbreaker swung his legs off the berth and nodded. “I’ll just wait here.”

First Aid disappeared into the back office. And Ratchet and Wheeljack came out of the operation room, wheeling a med berth along with a stasis-bound Cliffjumper on it.

“Trailbreaker?” Ratchet looked both tired and surprised. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine, Ratchet.” He smiled, shrugging. “As fine as usual, anyway. First Aid asked me to come by, he had another sparkling file he wanted to show me.” It wasn’t completely a lie, he thought. Of course, it wasn’t completely true either, but First Aid hadn’t really given the impression that he wanted Ratchet to know about what they were doing. “It’s not like I have much else to do these days, so I figured I’d swing by.”

“Found it!” First Aid called brightly as he came back out of the office. “Hi, Ratchet, Wheeljack! Did it go well?”

“Yeah, really well,” Wheeljack replied, helmfins blinking merrily. “He’ll be outta here in a few days. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he stretched, and Trailbreaker could hear his struts popping from where he was sitting, “a certain hot mech is waitin’ for me. Night, folks.”

Ratchet mumbled a vague goodbye at him. His shrewd optics didn’t leave First Aid. “Another file, huh? Thought you’d have gone through the lot of them by now.”

First Aid held up a datapad. “We haven’t looked at this one yet.”

“Yeah? Which one is it?”

“It’s about development,” First Aid said, offering a hand to Trailbreaker to help him off the berth. “We’ve covered a lot of that already, but this one might contain something we haven’t seen before.”

First Aid wasn’t lying, Trailbreaker realized. He was being very creative with the truth, granted, but he wasn’t lying.

“You’re not going to read it here?” Ratchet asked, and there was definitely something speculative in his tone and face. “It’s quiet enough, I don’t think you’ll be disturbed.”

“Not that I dislike the medbay,” Trailbreaker said, shrugging, “but I’m more comfortable in my own quarters. While I still have the chance, anyway.”

Ratchet frowned. “That bad, huh?”

“I don’t have great hopes,” Trailbreaker admitted.

Ratchet nodded, then clapped First Aid on the shoulder. “Well, I’m off.” A smirk bloomed slowly on his face. “You two crazy kids have fun tonight. First Aid, be mindful of his limitations right now, okay?” He winked, waved, and sauntered out.

Trailbreaker looked at First Aid. “What was that about?”

“Knowing Ratchet, I’m a bit afraid to ask.” First Aid giggled. “It’s probably not good. Come on, Hoist just said he’s on his way. We can leave.”

Walking back to his quarters went just as slowly as walking to the medbay had, but it seemed easier somehow. Maybe it had to do with the chipper presence of First Aid by his side. Not that they spoke a lot, but First Aid just had this way of brightening a room simply by being in it sometimes. He was steady and supportive by Trailbreaker’s arm, but he was bright and cheerful and happy, and Trailbreaker couldn’t help but be content.

Even with that, though, he was relieved to finally be able to sit down on his own berth.

First Aid closed the door and input a general locking code. “Is this okay? I figured it might be better if we weren’t disturbed right now.” He suddenly sounded nervous, which was unusual and weird. First Aid hadn’t been nervous around him since their first few encounters after Trailbreaker had shielded him, a few months ago. Before everything else happened.

“It’s fine,” Trailbreaker said, trying not to let First Aid’s nerves get to him. “But is it – is it that bad?”

“What?”

Trailbreaker nodded to the datapad still in First Aid’s hand. “My test results. Are they that bad?”

“Oh! Oh, no, they’re about what we expected. Ratchet will put you on berth rest tomorrow, if the scans give the same results then.” First Aid sighed and put the datapad down on the berth. He stepped up to stand in front of Trailbreaker, fingers twisting together in front of him, but then he sighed again and began pacing.

Trailbreaker was more than a little nervous now.

First Aid stopped suddenly, looked at him. “Remember I said I’d found another something that could maybe work?”

Trailbreaker nodded, still apprehensive as First Aid began pacing again.

“I read it in this file,” First Aid explained. “I couldn’t believe I hadn’t encountered it before, to be honest, it’s very basic. Ratchet’s even mentioned it on one of your first appointments, but he’s never brought it back up, and I don’t know why, because it could really help, and you probably wouldn’t have any issues finding someone, not now anyway. I think there would be a line, to be honest, but maybe you don’t want that. It would be kind of weird. But I thought I would bring it up, and maybe offer to – maybe I – that is.” He stopped again, facing the wall, fingers twisting together.

“First Aid,” Trailbreaker said slowly, “what are you talking about?”

First Aid invented heavily before turning around. There was tension in every line in his frame. “There’s something called substituting,” he said clearly, in the same tones he used in medbay when he wanted to explain something. “When a carrier stands without a sire to help contribute, they can use a substitute. Contributions don’t have to come from the sire to be valid.”

Trailbreaker didn’t really know what to say. He didn’t know if First Aid was saying what it sounded like he was saying. “By contributions you mean…”

“Transfluid, primarily,” First Aid said, still in lecture mode. “And spark energy, though your spark is handling the strain well enough for now. You usually power those mods of yours, so it’s used to a bit of extra effort.”

He sounded like Ratchet. It felt like he was putting up a shield.

“And by substitute you mean…”

First Aid sighed and sat down next to Trailbreaker. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? I guess that’s fair.” He looked up, until they were face to face. “You can frag someone else to get what your frame needs. It doesn’t have to be Smokescreen.”

Trailbreaker wasn’t sure when First Aid had picked up who the sire of his sparkling was. It might be in his file, locked to medics’ codes, but somehow he doubted it. Ratchet had said it wasn’t important who the sire was, not for taking care of Trailbreaker.

As insightful and smart as First Aid was proving to be, he could easily have figured it out for himself.

Still, what he was suggesting now… “I don’t know, Aid. I’m not too comfortable just slipping into berth with someone.” He winced. “I’m not too… experienced on that front. I guess. And besides, I haven’t had any mecha interested in me, not like that. Not since… well. Very few before him. And now…” He sighed too, shaking his head. “I’d feel like I was whoring myself out to care for my sparkling. And I’m not comfortable with that.”

First Aid cringed. “Primus. No. I don’t want you to feel like that.”

“Yeah.”

For a few moments, they sat in silence. Then First Aid moved again, minutely, not quite looking up at him, not quite looking away. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “But… What if it was someone you trusted? A friend?”

Trailbreaker pursed his lips. “What do you mean?”

“What if it was… me?”

Trailbreaker stared. And stared some more. He stared long enough that First Aid got all flustered, pulling away and hunching his frame to make himself look small.

“Never mind. It was probably a dumb suggestion.”

It… It wasn’t, though, Trailbreaker realized. He trusted First Aid. And while he hadn’t really thought of him like that before, the idea was… interesting.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out to touch First Aid’s shoulder. His frame was tense under Trailbreaker’s hand. “Would it help?”

“I think it might,” First Aid said, as slowly and carefully as Trailbreaker had moved. “I think it’ll help. That’s why I wanted to suggest it now, why I did the extra tests. If there’s a marked improvement, maybe we can convince Ratchet to let you stay on your feet.”

Trailbreaker’s hand dropped away. “You wanted to do this now.”

He’d never seen his friend look this awkward, this embarrassed. First Aid almost seemed ashamed. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.” He moved as if to stand up, to pull away.

Trailbreaker caught his hand.

“Trailbreaker…?”

“I’m not saying no,” he said, quietly. “I’m… Sit down again? Let’s talk about it?”

Slowly, not looking away, First Aid settled on the berth again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Trailbreaker slid his hand up First Aid’s arm, tracing the plating until he got to First Aid’s helm. “I trust you. I wouldn’t feel bad, I think, doing this with you. But tell me one thing.”

“What?”

“Why do you offer?”

First Aid looked down, helm tilting slightly into Trailbreaker’s hand. “Because… I want to help. I think you’d be happier on your feet. And you’re my friend. If I can help, I will.”

Trailbreaker considered. He thought about First Aid’s brightness, his support, his steel core and steadfast determination. He let himself think about pretty white plating, cute gestures, giggles and laughs and gentle touches. He thought about all the ways this could go wrong.

He thought about all the ways this could go _right_.

“Yeah, okay,” he whispered finally. “Yeah, okay. Let’s try.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Really?” First Aid’s visor brightened a little.

“Really.” Trailbreaker turned sideways and leaned forward, resting his forehelm against First Aid’s. “If you want.”

In front of his face, First Aid’s facemask clicked away, and Trailbreaker was rewarded with a small, but blinding smile. “ _Really?_ ”

Trailbreaker chuckled. First Aid really was adorable. “Really.” He shifted on the berth, lying down slowly until he was flat on his back. “I don’t have a lot of energy, though. You might have to help out a bit.”

First Aid grinned. “I can do that.”

It was awkward, at first. Fitting First Aid between his legs, getting past the giggle stage where touches tickled more than they aroused, where he had to try to look past the fact that it was his friend kneeling there between his thighs and try to see First Aid as a lover. For a few moments, Trailbreaker doubted that he could manage.

But then First Aid’s slim fingers dug into the seams beneath his windshield, finding a sensory cluster there that Trailbreaker hadn’t even known about, and he felt himself melt.

“There, I think,” First Aid said, voice suddenly gone husky as he did whatever he had done again. Trailbreaker groaned. And then keened, as First Aid’s mouth replaced his hand, tongue probing the same cluster. His fingers trailed downward, gliding over Trailbreaker’s hips to his thighs, kneading and teasing.

Then First Aid _sucked_ , and Trailbreaker arched right off the berth. His panel clicked open, and then there was no more awkwardness. There was just First Aid, as kind and sweet and gentle as always, and this endless hunger that Trailbreaker didn’t know he had inside of him, and he found himself begging and pleading and moaning as First Aid drove him through one overload then another and then a third –

By the time Trailbreaker was finally sated, he was covered in white paint streaks and a recharging Protectobot.

It was kind of comfortable, snuggling like this. Trailbreaker put his arms around First Aid and tugged him close before downing his last cubes of the day and sending the command to dim the lights.

Waking up was a lot less weird than Trailbreaker had feared. First Aid was already awake when Trailbreaker onlined his optics, tucked against Trailbreaker’s side and drawing idle patterns on the plating over his gestation tank with one finger.

“Hey,” Trailbreaker murmured.

“Hey,” First Aid replied, smiling up at him. “Recharge well?”

“Like a rock,” Trailbreaker confirmed. He shifted a little. “I feel pretty good, actually.”

“Good.” First Aid patted his frame one more time before sitting up. “I think we have some cleaning up to do before we get fuel. Do you have a cloth?”

“I’m not sure a cloth will do the job.” Trailbreaker looked down at the streaks marking both of them. “But we can try. Over there, in the drawer.”

He’d been afraid it would be awkward, taking the step from friends to friends with benefits like this. But First Aid didn’t treat him any differently. The clean-up was quick and efficient, especially with the help of the medical cleanser First Aid dug out of subspace, and his tone was the same as it had been before. There was no hint anywhere that what had happened the night before had changed anything between them.

But Trailbreaker certainly noticed the difference when he stood up. “Whoa.”

First Aid was there instantly. “Are you dizzy? Uncomfortable? You can sit back down if you want, or lean on me. We have time.”

Trailbreaker shook his head in amazement. “It’s nothing like that. I – I actually feel good.”

The widest smile yet spread over First Aid’s face. “Then it probably worked. That’s awesome.” He took a step back. “Are you okay for walking without leaning on me today then?”

“I think so.” Trailbreaker grinned. He was too happy not to, really. The overloads of the night before, releasing tension he hadn’t known he carried, and now this? He felt _amazing_. “Are you coming with me anyway?”

“I’m not going to let you face Ratchet by yourself.” First Aid giggled. “We’re going to have to come up with a story if you don’t want to tell him the truth.”

Trailbreaker shrugged. “I don’t mind him knowing the truth. You helped me, Aid. I haven’t felt this good in months.”

“I’m glad.” First Aid’s voice was soft, but only for a moment. “Come on. Maybe we have time to swing by the wash racks real fast, I still feel sticky.”

One quick wash rack trip and one swing by the rec room later, Trailbreaker was back in medbay, nursing his first cube of the day. It was still almost solid, but it went down easier somehow, like his frame wasn’t quite as desperate for it but still craving enough fuel to make him ravenous.

“If this works, maybe you can ease off the supplements as well,” First Aid whispered. There was a gleam in his visor that told Trailbreaker he was grinning. “There’s no need to feed you more than you can process.”

“I really wouldn’t mind that,” Trailbreaker said with real feeling. “I miss normal fuel.” He emptied the cube and leaned back on the berth, getting ready to have all the equipment hooked up to his frame. “Shouldn’t Ratchet have been here already?”

“He should.” First Aid sounded puzzled. “He’s always on time. His schedule says he should be here… Hang on, I’ll ping him.”

First Aid didn’t get the chance, though. The medbay doors opened, and Ratchet stumbled in, looking frazzled and satisfied and decidedly worse for wear. And covered in red and yellow paint transfers.

First Aid giggled. “You know, we could have postponed, Ratchet. If you needed more time to get out of berth this morning.”

“Aw, mute it.” Ratchet grinned. “I wasn’t the only one with an early shift. Give me a few minutes in the sterilization racks, and I’ll be good as new.”

Trailbreaker managed to suppress his chuckles until Ratchet had closed the door behind him. “Guess he ain’t shy.”

“That’s nothing.” First Aid winked. “You should hear Wheeljack. I don’t think he and Bluestreak have any secrets left at this point. He’s been nagging me for details about the carrying process, by the way. Maybe your bitlet won’t be the only one for long.”

“Bluestreak said something like that,” Trailbreaker agreed. “Hopefully they’ll wait, though. I’m not sure anyone should actually choose to have a sparkling in the middle of a war zone.” He lifted a hand to his chassis, pressing against the warm plating that hid his gestation tank. “It’ll be hard enough to keep just the one sparkling safe.”

First Aid nodded, suddenly somber, and Trailbreaker cast about for something happier to say. He hadn’t meant to kill the mood like this. “The twins seem to be good for Ratchet. He seems happy.”

“Oh, he’s ecstatic.” First Aid giggled again, somber mood gone. “It took them ages to convince him, but it seems to have been worth it. He’s been much more relaxed and pleasant since they started dating.” He unspooled a connector wire, slid the plug into the port in Trailbreaker’s arm. “I’m happy for him.”

First Aid would be, Trailbreaker thought. He was such a kind spark.

Ratchet came back out when First Aid was halfway through the process of connecting Trailbreaker to the multitudes of instruments necessary. Trailbreaker was intimately familiar with the procedure by now and could almost have done it himself, but there was an extra dimension to everything today. He was almost nervous.

“Right,” Ratchet said briskly, all traces of the earlier pleasure-drunk mech gone. Trailbreaker would almost have thought he’d imagined it, if it wasn’t for the hint of gold still present at the back of Ratchet’s hip, in a spot that Ratchet probably couldn’t see himself. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

“Before you do that, Ratchet,” First Aid interrupted, holding out his datapad. “We took a set of readings last night.”

Ratchet gave his apprentice a look that clearly promised an interrogation in the near future. “Oh, you did, did you?”

First Aid nodded, looking a lot more relaxed than Trailbreaker felt he had grounds for. “I had a theory I wanted to test, and I needed a baseline.”

“Hm. Well, at least your scientific method seems to be intact.” Ratchet took the datapad, frowning down at the screen. “Well, these numbers are nothing to be cheerful about. I’m not letting you walk out of here if they’re the same today.” He looked askance at First Aid. “You said you had a theory? Am I to assume this has something to do with you two leaving together last night?” There was a minute smirk spreading on his face, and Trailbreaker knew First Aid well enough now to catch the blush.

“Just run the tests, Ratchet,” First Aid replied, sounding a bit more embarrassed than usual.

Ratchet hummed noncommittally, but he initiated the test process. Trailbreaker tried to relax into the pillows behind his back.

It didn’t take long.

“Well, I’ll be slagged.” Trailbreaker didn’t even have to look at Ratchet to know he was grinning widely. “Now this is another story. How many overloads did you drag out of him, Trailbreaker?”

“Ratchet!” First Aid squealed, hands over his face. “That’s – I didn’t –“

Trailbreaker would have taken First Aid’s hand, had he been close enough to touch. He could feel his own face heating up. “Kind of private, don’t you think?”

Ratchet waved the protest away. “It directly concerns the health of my patient, so no, I don’t think it’s too private. You’ve made remarkable improvement, Trailbreaker, and I’d like to ascertain how much you’ll need in terms of contribution to continue to improve.”

First Aid seemed to understand that logic. “Two,” he mumbled.

“Just transfluid, or spark energy as well?”

“Just transfluid.”

“Right.” Ratchet looked at the monitors again, examined the readings on the datapad. Finally, he turned to Trailbreaker with a smile. “Well, congratulations, Trailbreaker. You’ve escaped berth rest, but it’s a narrow margin. We’re going to stick to the bi-weekly checkups until I’m sure you’re stabilizing.” The smile turned to a smirk. “And you two keep fragging. It’s doing you a world of good.”

“Ratchet!” It was almost a whine, coming from where First Aid had his hands pressed to his face. “Just because you’re advertising what you’re doing and to who…”

Ratchet grinned. “Well, keep it up, anyway. Trailbreaker, nothing strenuous. But if you keep improving like this, you’ll be back on light duty soon.” He nodded at First Aid. “I’ll leave him in your hands for now. Sideswipe is pinging me to remind me to fuel.”

First Aid stared at him as he walked away.

“You okay?” Trailbreaker asked, wincing as he did. First Aid hadn’t actually said he wanted Ratchet to know every detail, and hiding behind one’s hands like that was not a mark of someone who was confident in his actions. Trailbreaker didn’t really blame him. He wasn’t exactly a catch. “If you want, I can ask him to lock my medical file so no one else will know?”

First Aid canted his head. “Why? Sure, he enjoys embarrassing me, but I’m not embarrassed of what we did. More of how loudly he was announcing it.” He disconnected the wires from Trailbreaker’s frame with practiced hands. “And Ratchet won’t tell anyone, for all that he’s teasing. He won’t let me live it down for a while, and I can probably expect a remedial talk on what you can and can’t do with patients, but it’s okay.”

That was a different consideration. Trailbreaker frowned. “Did we break a rule?”

“No.” First Aid shook his head as he tucked all the wires away. “You’re not my patient, you’re Ratchet’s. I’m just assisting, I have no control over your treatment. But he’ll remind me of the regulations anyway.”

For the first time in weeks, Trailbreaker sat up on the med berth without assistance. First Aid stood ready to help, but Trailbreaker didn’t need it. He slid of the berth – well, not gracefully, but at least easily. Like he could actually stand on his own two legs.

“I’m still on the same fuel regime, aren’t I?”

“For now. Ratchet probably wants to make sure this isn’t a fluke.”

There was an opening there. Trailbreaker eased into it. “So does that mean this wasn’t a one-time thing? I mean,” he hurried on, when he saw First Aid’s body language, “I would like it to be a regular thing. If you want. And if you don’t that’s fine too, I promise, I would understand that, but I – well, I’m getting kind of addicted to having my legs back, so I might have to do something about it anyway.”

First Aid’s visor brightened, and Trailbreaker knew there was a smile behind the mask. “I’d like it. If this was a regular thing.” He stepped closer, almost shyly. “I’m on duty this afternoon. Can I come by tomorrow?”

“Whenever you want.” Trailbreaker was looking forward to it already. “Just give me a ping so I’ll know when to be in my quarters.”

“Great.” First Aid’s mask slid away again, revealing blushing cheeks and a smile that was just as shy as Trailbreaker had expected. For all that First Aid sounded confident and sure when he was being a medic, this was very new to him too. It was a bit of a relief, knowing they were both kind of awkward about it. “Then I’ll comm you.”

“Great.” Trailbreaker smiled. “Talk to you later, then.”

He couldn’t resist glancing back as he walked away, grinning a bit extra when First Aid waved.


	11. Chapter 11

When Hound and Mirage finally returned to the Ark, Trailbreaker was well enough to walk down to medbay to greet them on his own. It was a relief – his friends, Mirage in particular, were always a bit high-strung when coming off of mission-mode, and Trailbreaker didn’t want them to worry about him on top of it all.

He saluted Jazz as the TIC passed him outside the medbay doors, looking relaxed and easy. It was a good sign, and Trailbreaker felt some of the tension leave him as he walked inside. If Jazz was relaxed, chances were the mission had gone well. Which meant Hound and Mirage were most likely in one piece.

Sure enough, Hound was already up, stretching and rotating his shoulders under Hoist’s watchful gaze. The moment Trailbreaker walked inside, Hound abandoned the check-up completely in favor of waving him over. Hoist shrugged and shook his head, but he didn’t protest. Trailbreaker even thought there were hints of amusement in the way he held himself. He’d gotten really used to reading moods on mecha with full masks and visors since he began spending time with First Aid.

“Trailbreaker!” Hound hugged him, and Trailbreaker had another moment to be grateful that his balance and strength had improved. Hound would have knocked him to the ground, elsewise. “Wow, buddy, you look good! Carrying seems to agree with you.”

He did look better, Trailbreaker knew. Since First Aid had suggested the substitute thing, and they saw each other several times a week, he’d improved slowly but surely. His frame was finally getting the nutrients and minerals it needed, now that not everything was claimed by the sparkling, and as a result, he looked healthier than usual. “I’m doing well. How are you, Hound?”

“Pretty much good to go.” Hound grinned. “This one was fairly tame. As soon as Mirage gets the all-clear, we’re out of here.”

“And Mirage is ready to get the all-clear right now, please,” Mirage said from the other berth, louder than he normally would. “I swear I have mud in places that should never see foreign particles, and my gears are grating.”

“Your gears are fine,” Ratchet replied gruffly. “And if you think I’m going to let you leave this medbay without being in optimum condition just because you’re complaining, you’ve got another thing coming.” He ignored the somewhat offended look on Mirage’s face, and kept working on his arm. “Hey, Trailbreaker. First Aid’s in the back, he’s just getting some wire. This idiot somehow managed to tear his tension wires clean in half.”

Ratchet’s tone was fond and teasing, and Trailbreaker grinned. “Gotcha. Well, I’ve got nothing better to do, so if you don’t mind I’ll just wait here until you’re finished.”

“Suit yourself.” Ratchet shrugged, and Hoist took advantage of everyone standing still again to grab Hound and sit him down on the berth. “It’s not like you haven’t spent enough time in here to know what you can and can’t touch.”

Hound was looking at him curiously. Trailbreaker ignored him. There would be time for explanations later. Though he wasn’t exactly certain how much he should explain.

He was saved from Hound’s too perceptive gaze by First Aid coming back out of the storage rooms in the back and putting a box next to Ratchet’s elbow. “Hi, ‘Breaker! How’re you?”

“Oh, you know.” He smiled – it was hard not to, when faced with First Aid’s bubbly happiness. “Same as yesterday. Getting better all the time.”

“Good!” First Aid stepped closer, looked him over critically before nodding. “Yeah, you’re doing good.” His posture turned hesitant as he glanced at Hound and Mirage, who were both glancing their way surreptitiously. “Still want me to come over tonight?”

“Yeah, of course.” He could practically feel Hound’s gaze on him. “Ping me when you’re done with your shift?”

“I will.” First Aid’s visor brightened in the manner that usually meant there was a smile hiding behind his mask.

For a moment, Trailbreaker couldn’t look away.

“Okay, you’re done,” Ratchet said, breaking the tension. He stood aside to let Mirage get off the berth. “Nothing strenuous, and I mean nothing, until those wires have integrated fully. I don’t care what excuse you use.”

Mirage sighed. “Yes, Ratchet. Hound, darling, are you ready to leave?”

“You’re all good,” Hoist confirmed, stepping back. “Get out of here, relax. You’ve earned it.”

“Thanks.” Hound’s grin was wide and blinding. “Trailbreaker, want to come along? We have some catching up to do.”

Trailbreaker nodded and let his friends drag him out. He shot one more smile at First Aid over his shoulder before the medbay doors closed behind him.

“So you’re looking well,” Mirage said conversationally, handing Trailbreaker a glass of energon. One of the nicer ones – apparently he felt the need to celebrate their safe return. “And you’re back to fueling on regular energon?”

“Almost.” Trailbreaker tore open one of First Aid’s little supplement packets and drizzled the contents into the glass. “I’ll take this any time over the stew they had me downing for a while.”

“And everyone knows now?” Hound sat next to him on the berth, sipping his own fuel. “That must have been a bit of a change.”

Trailbreaker snorted. “You’re not wrong. I had hoped to keep it quiet for a while longer, but… I wasn’t doing too well. And they weren’t too happy with me.”

“’They’ being…”

“The other Autobots. Not that I had expected differently.” He sighed. “Some of them got hurt because I wasn’t there with them, fighting. Humans died.”

“Ouch.” Hound winced. “Yeah, that sucks.”

Mirage sat down on Hound’s lap, perching there like it was the most comfortable chair in existence. It was cute, really. “Yes, it does. But it’s not unexpected. We always knew that some mecha would be afts, and we know that we sometimes lose the battles we fight. What I’d like to know now,” Mirage said, a glint in his optic that Trailbreaker wasn’t sure he liked, “is what it is that’s going on with you and the baby medic.”

Trailbreaker sat back in surprise. “Um. What?”

“First Aid,” Mirage specified, pronunciation almost ironically crisp. “What haven’t you told us yet, Trailbreaker?”

“He’s just a friend.” Trailbreaker shrugged, not sure what else to say. “It’s been good, having someone else to hang out with.”

“He’s more than just a friend, if the way he looked at you is anything to judge by.” There was a faint smile on Mirage’s face. “It was clear even with that mask and visor.”

Trailbreaker shook his head helplessly. “He’s a friend, ‘Raj. He’s been really supportive, helping me out with information and keeping me company when I spent all day in the rec room and encouraging me when it looked like I might end up on berth rest and stuff.”

“Berth rest?” Hound exclaimed. “But you’re up and walking around! What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, right now. I’m better, I promise.” He sighed and caved at the skeptical look on Hound’s face. He wasn’t going to be able to get away from this one. “It was close for a while, though. No matter what we tried, Ratchet couldn’t get enough nutrients in me. The sparkling took it all.”

“What changed?” Mirage’s voice was gentle, soft, but Trailbreaker knew he wasn’t imagining the curiosity on his face. Especially as it rose when Trailbreaker blushed.

“Um. Aid found this solution.” He looked away from both of them, fighting the blush still rising in his cheeks. “It’s called substituting.”

Mirage straight-up giggled, one hand raised to cover his mouth. “Oh, that explains it.”

“Explains what?” Hound frowned. “I don’t understand, love.”

“Substituting,” Mirage said, “is the practice of stepping in to help a carrier in lieu of a present sire.” He grinned when Hound still looked puzzled. “In other words, my dear Hound, Trailbreaker feels better because he’s getting his bolts fragged out on a regular basis.”

Trailbreaker would never stop being surprised at the easy vulgarity that Mirage sometimes spouted in private.

“And I bet it’s First Aid doing the fragging,” Mirage continued knowingly. “Isn’t it, Trailbreaker?”

Mirage was far too perceptive for Trailbreaker’s comfort, as well. Though he didn’t know why he’d expected to be able to keep what they were doing quiet. He wasn’t even sure why he wanted to, really. He trusted Hound and Mirage implicitly. It just… It felt like something he would have liked to keep to himself for a while.

“Yes,” he admitted, not meeting anyone’s optics. “But it’s just – we’re just friends, really. He’s just doing it to help.”

“Hmm.” Mirage shook his head minutely. “I suppose we’ll have to wait and see about that.”

Trailbreaker collapsed back against the berth, vents working overtime. Over him, First Aid looked smug.

“I swear it’s getting more intense,” he mumbled, twitching a bit to make himself comfortable. First Aid snuggled up and rested his head on Trailbreaker’s shoulder. “Either that, or we’re getting really good at this.”

“Your frame knows what it needs. Based on what I’ve read, you’re going to be craving this a bit more as the sparkling grows too.”

“Oh good,” Trailbreaker said faintly. He didn’t think – scratch that, he knew very well he’d never interfaced this much in his life. Before Smokescreen, it had been… ages. Far longer than he cared to think about. And even then, it had only been the one mech.

He’d interfaced more with First Aid in the last two weeks than he ever had. And it was going to get more intense?

“Hey, First Aid?”

“Mm?” First Aid sounded like he was half in recharge. Trailbreaker didn’t blame him – several overloads would do that to a mech. But for some reason, Trailbreaker was wide awake.

“You’d tell me, right? If this was too much for you?”

First Aid lifted his head, visor focused on Trailbreaker. “What?”

“I mean. I’m taking up a lot of your time. And if I’m going to get even more of it…”

“Trailbreaker.” First Aid smiled, and the soft expression was enough to make Trailbreaker relax again. “You know I’m enjoying myself, right? This is hardly a sacrifice.”

Trailbreaker snorted a laugh. “Primus, I should hope not.” Not that he hadn’t worried it was, in the dark hours of the night when his mind was spinning in circles and all his insecurities came crashing back.

“More to the point, I like hanging out with you. You’re my friend.” First Aid put his head back down. “I meant what I said, when we started this. If I can help, I will.”

“Yeah.” Trailbreaker put a hand around First Aid’s back, fitting it around his kibble. “Yeah, okay. Hey, Aid?”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you wear your mask all the time? Your smile is really nice.”

First Aid giggled. It was a cute sound. “Because I’m not good at hiding how I feel. And that can be a problem when I’m dealing with injured mecha. No one wants to see their medic looking stressed and worried over injuries, or upset.” He snuggled up even closer, impossible as it seemed. “The mask was Wheeljack’s idea. I feel a lot more comfortable with it on now.” His voice softened, visor dimming. “Eventually I might take it back off. Maybe. Hey, Trailbreaker?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” First Aid’s hand patted his chassis. “That was a really nice thing to say.”

Huh. Well, maybe it had been at that.

It didn’t take long for First Aid to slip into recharge. But Trailbreaker couldn’t seem to find the calm to do so, for all that his frame was sated and worn out.

Mirage’s words were spinning around in his mind.

Surely there wasn’t anything more in this for First Aid. Surely.

He’d basically confirmed it himself. They were friends. Nothing more.

Trailbreaker wasn’t sure he wanted it to be more. But he wasn’t sure he didn’t, either.

It took him a long time to relax enough to recharge.

“Okay, Trailbreaker.” Ratchet grinned as he disconnected the last wire. “I’m clearing you for extremely light duty.”

Trailbreaker’s relief was immediate. “Seriously? Thanks, Ratchet. I’m about to go crazy from not doing anything.”

“What’s extremely light duty?” Hound asked. He had asked questions all the way through the examination. Trailbreaker didn’t mind, and it was clear Ratchet hadn’t either. He seemed to enjoy explaining every part of the carrying process.

Mirage and Bluestreak were both right in their assumptions, it seemed. Mecha were going mad for sparklings. Maybe his really wouldn’t be the only one for long.

“Quarter shifts of something sedate, like monitor duty,” Ratchet replied. “Maybe the security hub. Parts manufacture and cleaning for medical or engineering, if you can do it sitting down. I don’t want you standing for long, not yet.” He winked, somehow managing to aim it at both Trailbreaker and First Aid. “And if you keep improving at this rate, there’s no reason why you can’t be back on regular duty in a month or so.”

“Can I transform? Go outside and take a drive?” Trailbreaker asked, hopeful despite knowing the answer would probably be no.

“We’ll see. But if you keep getting better, probably. At least until the gestation tank expands enough to push your t-cog into subspace.”

“Awesome.” Trailbreaker couldn’t have stopped the grin if his life had depended on it. “Thanks, Ratchet.”

“Don’t thank me.” Ratchet winked. “Thank Aid. I bet he’ll appreciate that.”

Primus, somehow Ratchet had developed the ability to make even ordinary words sound extremely lewd. At Trailbreaker’s side, First Aid fidgeted, throwing a glance at Hound.

Hound just leaned into Trailbreaker’s space, though, staring at the small imaging monitor that was still displaying a picture of the forming protoform. “Primus, ‘Breaker. That’s your sparkling.”

“Yeah.” Trailbreaker smiled, feeling all soft again. He really was falling in love with his sparkling. For all that it didn’t look like much more than a dense blob yet. “That’s him.”

“Have you thought of a designation yet?” Ratchet asked, completely failing to sound casual.

“Not yet.” Trailbreaker rested a hand on the plating that hid his gestation tank. “I kind of want to meet him first. Is that weird?”

“Not weird at all.” Ratchet shook his head. “That’s as normal as anything else, I think.” He patted Trailbreaker’s leg. “You’re doing well. Now get out of here. I’ll notify Prowl he can put you back on the duty rotation starting tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Ratchet.”

Standing up was almost easy now. Almost as effortless as it used to be, before the sparkling. He barely needed First Aid’s support, though Aid was there anyway, offering an arm and a happy air. “I guess you’re excited to be able to go back on duty.”

“Yeah, getting something to do with my days will be good.” Trailbreaker smiled. “I was going a little stir-crazy.”

“I know.” First Aid giggled as he let go of Trailbreaker, ensuring he could stand on his own. “It’s understandable. Hey, Trailbreaker?”

“Yeah?”

First Aid suddenly looked shy somehow, though Trailbreaker would be hard-pressed to say exactly what it was that made him look shy. There was something about the cant of his head, the way he held his hands. “When you can transform again and go outside… Do you want to go for a drive with me? Some time?”

“Sure,” Trailbreaker replied, more than a little confused. That didn’t really seem like something to be shy for. “Yeah, we can do that. I’d like that.”

“Great! Great.” First Aid beamed at him. “Well, I’d better get back to work. I’ll see you later!”

“Sure.” Trailbreaker nodded, staring after First Aid as he hurried back to Ratchet’s side.

Hound fell into step next to him as Trailbreaker walked out of medbay. He grinned, like he was getting a joke that Trailbreaker really didn’t get. “So, Mirage was right.”

Trailbreaker sighed, shaking his head and smiling. “About what?”

“About you and First Aid.” He elbowed Trailbreaker, carefully to not knock him off-balance. “You were just asked out on a date, mech.”

Trailbreaker laughed. “No, I wasn’t. It’s just a drive, Hound.”

“Sure.” Hound grinned. “That’s how me and Mirage started out, you know. Just a drive, my aft. Trust me. You got asked on a date.”

Trailbreaker chuckled and shook his head. “Not a date, mech.” At least, he didn’t think so.

After all, he didn’t get asked on dates. That never happened. And First Aid was much too good for him.

It probably wasn’t a date. Probably.


	12. Chapter 12

Being back on duty was a relief. Even if it was just a few hours a day, just having something to do, some goal to his day, brightened Trailbreaker’s mood considerably. Combined with fuel breaks spent with Hound and Mirage, and evenings spent with First Aid more often than not, he felt almost like his old self.

Well. If his old self had been interfacing more than once every second century or so.

Not that interfacing was all they did. First Aid hadn’t stopped spending time with him in the day, dropping by to read more sparkling files or walking him to or from his appointments in medbay or just refueling together. It was nice to have another friend around.

Especially since a return to duty meant that he was suddenly spending time in the tactical hub again. Which meant he saw a lot more of Smokescreen.

It didn’t mean that they spoke. Prowl had apparently caught on to a lot more than Trailbreaker had ever suspected (or Jazz had caught on and then shared with the mecha he thought needed to know, which was entirely possible), because Trailbreaker and Smokescreen rarely had shifts together. They still saw each other, nodded at each other as they passed each other in the hallway outside the hub, and Trailbreaker never knew what to say. He usually ended up saying nothing at all.

“Mech, what did you do to make _Smokescreen_ dislike you?” Windcharger asked after one particularly awkward encounter. “I’ve never seen him act like that around anyone.”

Trailbreaker shrugged. “He hasn’t said.” It was a small lie, but he doubted Smokescreen would want the sparkling’s heritage spread around the Ark. Especially since no one had made the connection between Trailbreaker’s sparkling and his few encounters with Smokescreen yet.

That lasted until Bumblebee wandered into the tactical hub, handed over a report to Prowl, and glanced from where Smokescreen was getting ready to leave to where Trailbreaker was settling into his chair. Neither of them looked at each other, and Trailbreaker noticed how Bumblebee’s optics brightened in realization.

Damn.

Well, maybe Bumblebee could be reasoned with.

He waited until Smokescreen had left and Prowl had taken the reports into the adjoining office. “Bee.”

Bumblebee nodded as he walked over. “Smokescreen, huh? Can’t believe I didn’t make the connection before. I even helped clean his colors off you.”

Trailbreaker blushed and looked away. He’d forgotten that. “Yeah. Well. I’d appreciate it – I think we both would – if you didn’t tell anyone.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know how to keep quiet.” Bumblebee hesitated, then reached up to pat Trailbreaker’s shoulder. “I’m not going to pry. But Smokey’s normally reasonable. Do you want me to work on him?”

“I don’t think there’s much to work on,” Trailbreaker admitted. “He made his opinions quite clear.”

Bumblebee winced. “Got it. I’ll stay clear. Let me know if you change your mind, though, okay?”

“Sure.”

Somehow, Trailbreaker doubted he would. Whatever had been between him and Smokescreen, that ship had sailed.

As usual, First Aid came over in the evening. He had yet another sparkling file with him and was reading aloud, but so far there wasn’t anything new in the information. So Trailbreaker didn’t feel too bad about interrupting.

“Hey, First Aid?”

First Aid stopped mid-sentence, and lowered the datapad he’d been reading from. “Yeah?”

“Does it say anything in there about…” He hesitated. This felt weird to talk about, even though Aid already knew who the sire of the sparkling was. “You know, about who the sparkling will look like?”

“Heredity?” First Aid pursed his lips. “I think so.” Strangely enough, he blushed. The reaction was enough to make Trailbreaker curious. “What did you want to know?”

He wasn’t sure. Well, he was, but he wasn’t sure what to actually _say._ “Um. You know who the sire is. When the sparkling emerges…” He ran a hand over his helm sheepishly. “Will everyone else know as well?”

If anything, First Aid’s blush deepened. Which was weird. And kind of cute. “To be honest… Maybe. Maybe not.”

“No?”

“No.” First Aid giggled nervously. “I should have mentioned this to you sooner. You might want to change your mind.”

Trailbreaker frowned and patted the berth next to him. “Come here? I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

First Aid sat, more careful than usual to keep some distance between them. “Sparklings inherit physical traits from both parents,” he began, clearly in full medic mode again. Yet another sign of his unease, and one Trailbreaker hadn’t seen since they started interfacing. “But the amount of inherited traits is directly dependent on the frequency of the sire’s donations. Most of the data that’s used to begin construction comes from the initial spark merge and interface. That’s why you rarely get a sparkling with an alt mode that radically diverges from either parent’s. But subsequent donations may partially or completely overwrite the initial donations, particularly if they’re frequent or from one donor.” Finally, he turned to look at Trailbreaker. “Which means that it’s more likely that your sparkling will look like me than that he’ll look like Smokescreen. Especially if we keep interfacing at the rate we have. There will be quite a bit of Smokescreen in the way his frame is formed, since you’ve only merged with Smokescreen, but aside from that, I doubt there will be much.”

“…Oh.” Trailbreaker didn’t know what to say to that.

First Aid sighed. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you about that. If you want, it’s not too late to dilute it. If you interface with other mechs… I bet there are many who’d be interested.”

“No.” He was surprised at how quickly he decided. And not completely sure why, but the thought of fragging anyone else made him uncomfortable. “No, not unless I don’t need to.” He reached out, took First Aid’s hand. “I don’t mind him looking like you. I like the way you look.”

First Aid blushed, color rising in his cheeks. It was unfairly adorable. “Really? You do?”

“Of course I do.” Trailbreaker frowned. “I’ve told you before, haven’t I? You’re damn cute, Aid.”

There was that blush again, completely adorable, and First Aid seemed to relax again. “Wow. Thank you.” He leaned in slightly, and Trailbreaker met him halfway and nudged their shoulders together. “Does that mean you want to keep interfacing with me?”

That one was a no-brainer. “Yeah, I do. Unless you don’t want to.” Which would make sense, really. Most mecha knew they were friends by now, but if the sparkling looked like First Aid… Would First Aid even want that? It would be a clear, visible sign of how much ‘facing they’d been doing, and Trailbreaker wasn’t exactly a catch. “Are you okay with him looking like you? If you want me to find someone else…” He trailed off, knowing that he didn’t really want to find someone else. But he also knew that he wouldn’t push First Aid into something he didn’t want. He’d lost one friend that way already.

First Aid just stared at him, though. “What? Are you kidding? I don’t mind him looking like me at all.” That small, sweet smile grew on his face again. “I’m… I’d be proud of that, to be honest.”

Huh. That was unexpected.

Then again, this was the first sparkling in ages. Maybe it made sense. Still, it couldn’t hurt to make completely sure. “You’re certain? It’ll mean you’ll have a fairly permanent connection to me.”

First Aid blushed again. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Trailbreaker didn’t know what to say to that. He felt almost humbled, but there was a warmth teasing around his spark at the words.

First Aid picked the datapad back up. “Want to hear the rest?”

Trailbreaker nodded and, on impulse, put his arms around First Aid and pulled him closer. Tried to, anyway – but just like Ratchet, First Aid had a lot more heft to him than he looked to have. But he giggled and shifted with the hold until they were seated fully on the berth together, First Aid between Trailbreaker’s legs. It was awkward and they didn’t quite fit, but it was very comfortable all the same.

First Aid lifted the datapad. “At ten cycles’ gestation,” he read, “the protoform will begin to move. The movements will be visible on scans before the carrier can feel it, and at this point the protoform is still small enough to have plenty of space in the gestation tank. This changes rapidly at around fourteen cycles, when the first of several growth spurts hit…”

The _Ark_ was slowly going back to normal around him. The looks and hostility had almost died down completely, helped on the way by the twins and Bluestreak. In fact, it seemed that the heavier Trailbreaker felt, the more active the protoform in his gestation tank became, the more a sense of excitement seemed to follow him wherever he went. Bluestreak was a major source of it, of course, always beaming and asking endless questions. Mirage was more quiet, but in his own way just as bad. And Optimus Prime beamed like the sun itself whenever he looked at Trailbreaker, which was about to give Trailbreaker a complex. Or it would have, if Optimus hadn’t seemed so damned happy.

And it rubbed off. A happy Prime meant a happy Jazz, which meant that Prowl relaxed a bit, which meant that Red Alert did as well. A happy Prime also meant a joking Ironhide, and a snarky Ratchet, which also meant very happy twins. And so it went on.

Even the Decepticon attack on a nearby power plant didn’t quite manage to ruin the good mood. And for the first time, Trailbreaker didn’t feel horrifically guilty that he hadn’t been there to help.

“You should have seen them, ‘Breaker,” Sideswipe crowed. “Thundercracker won’t be flying for a while after that crash!”

“Dirge hit the rocks so hard I think he’ll be stuck there permanently,” Cliffjumper snickered. “They’re going to need all of Devastator to dig him back out.”

Tracks laughed. “They won’t have all of Devastator until Hook manages to weld himself back together. And that’s hard to do with no right arm to speak of.”

Trailbreaker grinned. He couldn’t help himself, really – the mood in general was too good. The Decepticons had been completely routed, and Ratchet had fixed what little damage they’d sustained in less than an hour. It was a good day.

At his side, First Aid was quiet. Still cheerful, still happy, but quieter than usual. Trailbreaker leaned closer. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” There was a faint smile visible in the glow of First Aid’s visor. “I’m… not a fan of the violence, that’s all. I understand the necessity of it, but I don’t have to like it.”

“Oh.” Trailbreaker frowned. “I’m… sorry?”

First Aid giggled. “Don’t be. I know who I’m surrounded by, I’m not offended. It’s just not my favorite topic of conversation.”

Trailbreaker turned more fully to face First Aid, ignoring the play-by-play still going on behind him. “Yeah? What’s your favorite topic of conversation?”

“Um. I’m not sure?” First Aid’s visor brightened in a blush. “I’m not sure I have a favorite topic. Maybe I just know which topics I don’t like. We’ve been talking a lot lately, what do you think?”

They had been talking a lot lately. But a lot of it had been about the sparkling. They hadn’t really talked much about anything else. For all their long conversations, Trailbreaker actually didn’t know too much about First Aid.

He felt a sudden urge to remedy that.

“Do you like music?” he asked impulsively. It was the first thing he could think of, probably helped along by whatever unidentifiable modernistic mess Blaster was playing over in the corner of the room. Jazz was already on the floor, twisting and spinning and likely to take a limb off whoever ventured too close.

“Sure!” First Aid nodded, before wincing as something close to a clang reverberated off Jazz’s chassis. “Maybe not this kind though.”

“I don’t blame you. I think Blaster and Jazz are the only ones who actually like this.” Trailbreaker drank down the rest of his fuel before standing and holding his hand palm-up towards First Aid. “Come with me?”

First Aid looked really confused, but he stood up at just a light tug from Trailbreaker’s hand. “Come with you where?”

Trailbreaker grinned. “Out on the floor. To dance with me. Before I’m too heavy to be able to move much.”

“Oh!” First Aid stumbled as Trailbreaker pulled him closer, but he caught himself before crashing into Trailbreaker’s chest. “I’m – I don’t know if I know how to dance.”

“Me either.” Trailbreaker shrugged. “Honestly, though. Look at Jazz. He actually does know how to dance, and it still looks like a war zone out there.”

“I guess.” First Aid giggled again. “Though maybe it’s supposed to look like that.”

At this point, Jazz was spinning like a top, arms kept close to his frame. It was dizzying to watch, and Trailbreaker could only imagine how uncomfortable it would feel to actually do. “Maybe. Hey, Blaster!”

“Yeah, my mech!”

“Mind playing something a little more general audiences?”

Blaster laughed. “Fine, I’ll mellow it up for you plebeians. Jazz, change coming up.”

Jazz kept on spinning, even as the music changed. Trailbreaker made sure to keep himself and First Aid well out of his reach.

It was awkward at first. For all that he knew First Aid’s frame intimately by now, he still wasn’t sure where to place his hands. First Aid seemed just as insecure, and it took Tracks and Skydive bumping into First Aid’s back to actually push them up against each other.

And suddenly, it was as easy as changing shape.

Trailbreaker’s hands fit perfectly on First Aid’s waist, like they belonged there. And First Aid’s hands were warm on his shoulders, visor bright and happy as they looked at each other, and Trailbreaker couldn’t help the smile spreading on his face.

He wasn’t sure what music Blaster had put on, or if the way they were swaying slowly even fit the music. He didn’t really care.

“This is nice,” First Aid said, and Trailbreaker could almost feel the warmth of the smile he was hiding behind that facemask. “I like this.”

“I like this too. And see, you can dance.”

First Aid laughed, making Trailbreaker warm up all over again. “I’m not sure this qualifies. We’d have to try something faster to figure that out, maybe.”

“I’d be up for that.” Trailbreaker grinned. “Just give me a few months.”

“Sure.” First Aid almost sounded shy. “I can do that.”

Even with the slow pace, it didn’t take long before Trailbreaker needed to take a break. He let First Aid lead him by the hand back to the table they’d been at before. Sideswipe was the only one still seated, optics locked at where Ratchet and Sunstreaker were dancing.

“I’ll get us some more fuel,” First Aid said, almost pushing Trailbreaker into a chair. “I’ll be right back.”

Getting off his feet felt divine. Even with Sideswipe chuckling at him.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing.” Sideswipe grinned. “Smooth moves, mech.”

Trailbreaker stared at him. “Huh?”

“The flirting,” Sideswipe replied, nodding toward where First Aid was waiting in line for the energon dispenser. “Didn’t know you had it in you, to be honest.”

“I wasn’t flirting.” He frowned. “Was I?”

“Sure looked like it from here.” Sideswipe winked. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” He looked at First Aid again, and Trailbreaker did the same. First Aid was laughing at something Bluestreak was saying, visor bright and happy, and Trailbreaker got all warm again. “But take my word for it,” Sideswipe continued. “That mech is right there with you.”

Trailbreaker wasn’t sure how to interpret that. He watched First Aid pick up two cubes and head toward their table, smiling again when he saw Trailbreaker looking.

Next to him, Sideswipe laughed again and got to his feet. “You’ll realize eventually. In the meantime, I think there’s a betting pool I need to get into.”

Yeah, Trailbreaker didn’t understand Sideswipe at all. But maybe it didn’t matter.

He took the cube First Aid handed him, emptying half of it in one gulp. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” First Aid sat down next to him. “What was Sideswipe laughing about?”

“I have no idea,” Trailbreaker replied. “Want to dance some more?”

First Aid beamed at him. “Absolutely.” He put the other cube on the table and reached for Trailbreaker’s hand. “Come with me?”

“Yeah.” Trailbreaker grinned. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”


	13. Chapter 13

“Well, you’re going to be happy about this.” Ratchet grinned.

“I am?” Trailbreaker was truthfully a little apprehensive. Ratchet looked almost gleeful, an expression that would had looked more at home on Sideswipe and usually would prompt most mecha to walk carefully.

“Yep. It’s good news.” Ratchet tapped the screen showing Trailbreaker’s vitals. “Your numbers have improved enough that I’m clearing you for transforming.”

It took a moment to sink in. And when it did, Trailbreaker smiled so widely it almost hurt. “You mean I can drive?”

“You can drive.” Ratchet was practically beaming at this point. “Carefully. Mind the speed, mind the terrain, and most importantly, mind your fuel levels. Bring extra. And don’t go alone, just in case.” He disconnected the last plug and stepped back. “Now go on, get out of here. I know you’ve been feeling cooped up.”

That was an understatement. He’d been complying with the limitations Ratchet had placed on him, but it was no secret he’d been all but vibrating off the walls since he started feeling better. As it was, Trailbreaker was off the berth and halfway through the room before Ratchet had even finished speaking. “Thanks, Ratchet!”

Ratchet’s laugh followed him out of the medbay.

He wanted to go out driving, right now. The area around the Ark was considered safe, he would be able to drive for a good while before having to turn back. Maybe he could even be out all day, at least if he brought enough fuel.

But there was the little matter of not going out alone.

Hound was his go-to driving partner, usually. They liked the same kind of roads – Mirage kept insisting that ‘mud paths’ was a better term – and were comfortable at the same speeds. But Hound was out on a mission with Mirage, and Trailbreaker really didn’t want to wait until they got back. Who knew how long he’d have to wait then.

Quite a lot of the others had a lower ground clearance and a higher average speed than Trailbreaker. He’d gone driving with Wheeljack once, and had been left behind in the dust. And the humans were always game for a ride, but they were off-base as well, working on some project of Chip’s.

Besides, aside from Hound, there was really only one mech he wanted to go driving with. But First Aid had left the day before with the rest of the Protectobots to help some humans, and they weren’t due to be back for at least another day or so.

He headed to the rec room anyway. Maybe he’d come up with something. Though the more he thought about it, the fewer ideas he had. A quick ping to Teletraan-1 showed that Brawn and Gears were the only ones off-duty this morning with alt modes that could navigate his kind of terrain, and though they weren’t growling at him anymore, he didn’t want to seek out their company if he could avoid it. Going for a drive with either of them would not be conducive to his health, he was sure.

By the time he’d filled his daily lot of cubes, his good mood had evaporated. He felt positively gloomy.

“Now, what kind of look is that for a mech who I hear Ratchet just gave a completely clean bill of health?”

Trailbreaker jumped. For such a big mech, the Prime could be remarkably stealthy.

“Sorry, sir.” He subspaced his last cube and turned around. “I didn’t hear you.”

“No need to apologize.” Optimus smiled, optics crinkling. “I’ve had to learn to be stealthy. It’s a necessity if I want to avoid Ironhide. He’s conscientious and loyal to a fault, but sometimes I just need some time alone.”

Trailbreaker chuckled. The image of the Prime tiptoeing past his guardian was too good.

“What bothers you?” Optimus asked, voice still kind. “Are you not doing well?”

“As well as I can be,” Trailbreaker admitted. “Ratchet just cleared me for transforming. I haven’t driven for months. But I can’t go out today, maybe not tomorrow either, because he doesn’t want me to go alone.” He shrugged. “It’s a stupid thing to be upset about. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not stupid at all,” Optimus said calmly. “You’re allowed to be disappointed. But I may have a solution for you.” He winked, which suddenly made him look a war younger. “Might I have the honor of accompanying you outside today? I have something I want to show you.”

He’d be a fool to say no. Even if he didn’t understand why Optimus Prime himself would want to spend a day with him. “Of course, sir. That would be real good.” He smiled, mirroring the happy expression on Optimus’ face.

“Good! And don’t call me ‘sir’, please. I’m not your leader right now. I’d like to be a friend, if you’d have me.”

Primus, Optimus’ spark was big enough to encompass the entire galaxy. “Yes, sir. I mean, yes Optimus.”

The Prime, thankfully, only chuckled lightly at his misstep. “Come on then. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

Transforming for the first time in months felt just as good as Trailbreaker had expected. He kept revving his engine, tires spinning against the gravel and dirt, and he knew he looked ridiculous but Optimus was kind enough not to laugh. At Optimus’ suggestion they drove a couple of rounds around the mountain before going anywhere else – “you haven’t used your wheels in a long time, it’ll be good for you to start slowly” – and he’d object to the coddling, except this was the Prime, and driving at all felt way too good for any kind of protest.

It was pure bliss, moving like this again.

Before long, Optimus took a small dirt track leading off the main road. Trailbreaker hadn’t noticed this one before, and the cuts to the trees looked fresh enough that the whole road seemed new. Strange.

“Where are we going, Optimus?” At least he’d managed to stop calling him ‘sir’.

“It’s a surprise.” If Trailbreaker was pressed, he’d say Optimus looked like he was almost wiggling happily. He’d seen First Aid do the same thing. “Be patient for a few moments more, and you’ll see.”

Trailbreaker could be patient. He was far too happy not to. And true enough, just a few minutes later they came to a glade in the woods. This one looked to be natural for the most part, though there were signs that someone had helped it along here and there. A few tree stumps with fresh cuts, trodden leaves and shrubs.

The glade was full of partially constructed playground equipment.

Optimus transformed in front of him. “Do you like it?”

“Like it?” Trailbreaker stood up as well, staring. “Prime, is this for my sparkling?”

“Yes,” Optimus replied happily. “He needs a place to play. Chip and Sparkplug have been working with Grapple and Hoist to set it up. Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” He sat down heavily on a strategically placed rock. “This is fantastic.”

It really was. There was a large, wide slide, built on top of a mound of rock, and a gravel pit with buckets and shovels, and swings. There was even some form of jungle gym, all ropes and ladders and balancing poles. And in the midst of it all, Spike, Chip and Sparkplug and a very excited Carly were beaming at him.

“I’m glad you like it!” Carly put down a hammer and slid down the slide to land at his feet. “It’s a baby shower present. Optimus said you don’t have those on Cybertron, but we do here, so you’re just going to have to handle it.” She gestured around her. “Chip designed the plans. Everything’s based on what we use for our own kids, but Grapple’s helped us make it the right size and Cybertronian-proof. Do you think the kid’ll like it too?”

“I think he’ll love it,” Trailbreaker said honestly. “This is amazing. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.” Spike tightened a bolt on the apparatus he was working on. It looked like some form of seesaw. “Gotta say, I can’t wait to see what a miniature version of you guys look like.”

“Bumblebee said he’d be here by the end of the year?” Sparkplug asked, a happy glint to his eyes. “It’ll be good to have a kid around again. Even if he’ll be the size of me.”

“The end of the year, yeah.” Trailbreaker shrugged. “I’m… kinda nervous about it, to be honest. Excited, yeah, but nervous.”

Sparkplug nodded sagely. “All first-time parents are. Want to hear the best advice I ever got about parenting?”

“Absolutely.” Sometimes he forgot that Sparkplug had all but raised Spike by himself. Their species were different, but there were probably a lot of things that were similar even so.

“Then listen closely, lad.” Sparkplug walked closer and patted Trailbreaker’s leg. “Here it is. Ready?” He looked serious, and Trailbreaker sat up straighter to show he was paying attention. Sparkplug nodded and patted Trailbreaker’s leg again. “Okay. Listen. Not a one of us know what the heck we’re doing at first. We figure it out as we go along. And the most important thing you do is love your child and ask for help when something is difficult.”

Trailbreaker stared. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” Sparkplug chuckled. “Sorry, there’s no recipe or instructions to follow. You just do your best. That’s all anyone can do. But don’t forget the asking for help part. There will be difficult times, there always is, and no one can go it alone.” He smiled wryly. “Though from what I’ve seen, you won’t lack for assistants if you need it.”

“That’s true.” Chip laughed. “The Autobots have all gone baby-crazy.”

“Well, I think it’s cute,” Carly countered. “And I can’t wait to meet him, Trailbreaker. I’m sure he’ll be cute as a button.”

“Thank you.” Trailbreaker touched Carly’s arm with one finger. “All of you. Really.”

“You’re welcome, lad.” Sparkplug smiled. “Don’t be too worried. I think you’ll do great.”

Trailbreaker would have been happy to stay all day and watch the playground take shape around him. The humans completely refused his help when he offered – “it’s a gift for you,” Carly insisted, “you don’t help on your own gift” – and so he’d been left with nothing to do but sit and fuel. Optimus sat next to him, quiet and pleasant, emptying his one cube slowly enough to let Trailbreaker down three.

After a while, though, Optimus stood back up. “If you have the energy, my friend, there is one more thing I would show you before we go back.”

“I’m okay for being outside a while longer.” Pit, he’d be okay for staying outside a lot longer. The little driving they’d done had left him feeling pleasantly sore, but not exhausted, and there was no pain. “Lead the way, Optimus.”

This time they headed up the mountain, along one of the gentler slopes where Trailbreaker didn’t have a problem keeping up with Optimus’ longer legs. He’d been up here before, but not recently, and it was strange how much harder it had gotten to walk up the path. More than once Optimus had to steady him with a hand to his elbow or his back. Finally, they reached a plateau of sorts, and Trailbreaker stopped, staring.

“I know, it looks like a lot.” Optimus chuckled. “But Skyfire assures me we need them all.” He stepped forward, carefully avoiding the small spinning gadgets that were scattered across the plateau.

“We do need them all,” another voice said, and Trailbreaker turned to see Skyfire step closer with a gentle smile on his lips. “The numbers are an essential part of the apparatus. Which you would know, Optimus, had you been paying attention.”

“I’m afraid a lot of the technical jargon is too much for me.” Optimus picked his way past another handful of the gadgets and stopped at Skyfire’s side. “You may have to explain it to me again, my friend.”

“Hmm. It’ll be the third time.” Skyfire’s smile turned cheeky. “I’m starting to think you’re misunderstanding on purpose.”

“Oh, you do? That’s strange.” Optimus grinned and put one hand on Skyfire’s arm. “I simply had problems understanding the science. Maybe you should explain it to me again? With more words this time? Just to make sure I get it.”

Trailbreaker stared. That sounded an awful lot like flirting. “Um.”

Skyfire turned away from Optimus with clear reluctance and smiled at Trailbreaker. “Hello, Trailbreaker. These are the solar collectors I told you about a while back.”

“To harvest energon from the sunshine,” Trailbreaker realized, looking around at the spinning gadgets again. “They work?”

“Like a charm. This is only the first of five locations we’re setting up. Once they’re all at full capacity, they should produce enough energon to wean us off the humans’ support.” He held up a tiny sample cube, offering it to Optimus. “The quality is very good. I’d offer you some as well, Trailbreaker, but Ratchet’s warned all of us of giving you anything that hasn’t been cleared by him or First Aid.”

Trailbreaker nodded and bent down to examine one of the gadgets more closely. Mainly to avoid looking at the electric optic contact that was happening between Skyfire and Optimus Prime. And the way Optimus seemed to be drinking the fuel without taking the cube from Skyfire’s hand. Primus. “I understand. These are really cool.”

“Thank you. They’re performing just as well as I hoped they would.” There was clear pride in Skyfire’s voice. “By this time next week, we’ll all be fueling on solar energon.”

“That would be a welcome change,” Optimus agreed, and Trailbreaker dared to look up again. The two of them stood a decent distance apart now, though there was a faint blush on Optimus’ face, a small smile on Skyfire’s, and Optimus still had his hand on Skyfire’s arm.

Who’d’ve thought the Prime was actually shacking up, to borrow the colloquial. Though Trailbreaker couldn’t deny that they were a good fit.

“I should get back inside,” he said at last. “I’ve used more energy today than I’m used to anymore, and I want to have some to go on for tomorrow as well.”

“Of course.” The Prime was all diplomacy. “I’ll walk you back.”

“No need.” Trailbreaker smiled. He could give the mech this much, at least. The sun would set soon, and the view from where they were was very good. Some would say romantic. “Ratchet said not to go driving alone, he didn’t say anything about walking. Which is what I’ll be doing, nice and slow. I’ll be fine.” He nodded towards where they were still touching. “I’m sure you two have things to discuss about this project still. Thanks for coming out with me today, Prime.”

“It was a pleasure, Trailbreaker.” Optimus smiled again, and his hand slid down to Skyfire’s, fingers intertwining. “Have a good evening.”

“You too. Both of you.”

Picking his way back down wasn’t hard. But even taking it slow, he was tired when he got back to the path circling the mountain. He kept his promise to Prime and walked back to the _Ark_ doors, waving at Bluestreak and Sideswipe as they headed out to patrol and to Brawn and Cliffjumper, coming back in. Cliffjumper transformed and came over, which Trailbreaker counted as definite progress.

“Hey, ‘Breaker! Been out stretching your legs?”

“Yeah, being inside was getting old.” He smiled down at Cliffjumper. “Guess you know the feeling.”

“Boy, do I ever.” Cliffjumper laughed. “Ratchet took his own sweet time letting me out, but it feels good to finally drive again.”

“I know what you mean,” Trailbreaker replied with real feeling.

“Hey, at least you’re not stuck inside because some ‘Con got the drop on you.” Cliffjumper grinned. “Congrats, by the way. Can’t wait to meet the bitlet.”

“You and me both.” He waved back as Cliffjumper jogged off, headed for the nearest wash racks. Trailbreaker was tempted to follow for a moment, but then Bumblebee came from the other side and slipped inside on Cliffjumper’s heels.

Trailbreaker had seen enough flirting for one day.

He still needed to get the dust rinsed off before recharge, though. He wasn’t really dirty, not by his standards anyway, but there was dust and grit in his seams that he’d rather get rid of.

“Hey, Trailbreaker.”

He’d forgotten about Brawn. Slag. “Hey. Good patrol?”

Brawn shrugged. “Normal. Can’t complain. I wanted to talk to you, if you have a minute.”

“Sure, yeah.” Trailbreaker tried to hide his apprehension. “Here good?”

“Here’s fine.” Brawn straightened, shoulders back and head up. “I owe you an apology. I was way out of line. I shouldn’t have said the things I did. So I’m sorry.”

That… wasn’t what Trailbreaker had expected. “Um. Thanks? I – um. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Brawn said firmly. “I had no right. None of us did. You’re doing the right thing.”

Somehow, for all that he’d heard the words before, they suddenly felt a lot more true. Like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He hadn’t realized how much the bad attitudes had bothered him. “That means a lot. Thanks, Brawn.”

“Sure.” Brawn glanced at Trailbreaker’s dusty plating. “Looks like you’re about as dusty as I am. I’ll help you, you help me?”

Trailbreaker would be a fool to pass that up. “Sounds good.”

He followed Brawn toward the nearest unoccupied wash rack, somehow feeling much lighter than he had that morning.


	14. Chapter 14

Trailbreaker could feel himself begin to lag. The Protectobots had been gone for close on a week, longer than anticipated, and though he’d started taking his supplements again he knew they weren’t enough.

Ratchet hadn’t said anything. Trailbreaker hadn’t, either. He really didn’t want to be told he couldn’t transform anymore, or go outside. He was enjoying his newfound freedom, for as long as it would last.

Three cubes into the day, his half-shift of monitor duty done, and Trailbreaker didn’t know what to do with himself. So Bumblebee and Cliffjumper jogging down the hallway toward him, big, slag-eating grins on both their faces, actually seemed like a promising prospect instead of a daunting one.

“Hey, ‘Breaker!” Bumblebee slowed to a stop in front of him. “Fill up your subspace, mech! We’re going on a drive!”

“We are?” It was a bit of a surprise, but at this point Trailbreaker would accept anything. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.” Cliffjumper grinned. “Now come on, or we’ll be late to where we need to be.”

“Ratchet knows about it,” Bumblebee added, a touch of impatience in his voice. “He said this would be good for you.”

Well, Trailbreaker wasn’t going to argue. Not when he was getting another trip outside.

It didn’t take long to stock up on a day’s worth of fuel. Trailbreaker still felt awkward about the amount he required, but it helped somewhat to see Bumblebee and Cliffjumper both bringing a few cubes as well. With Skyfire’s new solar collectors there really was no need for rationing, but Trailbreaker couldn’t shake the guilt of his heavy fuel regime completely.

As usual, transforming was a thrill. Trailbreaker had sworn to himself that he’d never take it for granted again, considering how much he’d missed it when he couldn’t do much. Bumblebee and Cliffjumper were both faster and more agile than he was where they were weaving back and forth on the road ahead of him, but he could tell they were keeping it slow for his sake. It was nice.

::So how’re you holding up?:: Bumblebee asked. ::Any more slag from anybody?::

::Not really,:: Trailbreaker replied, swerving a bit to avoid a big puddle. ::I’m tired, but I’m doing okay.::

::When’s the bitlet due?:: Cliffjumper sped up slightly, cutting in front of Bumblebee. ::Are you getting fed up yet?::

::I have about five months to go,:: Trailbreaker replied. ::Honestly, I’m doing better than I was. As long as I can drive and pull my weight at least somewhat I’ll be okay. At some point I won’t be able to drive anymore, though.:: He chuckled. ::Maybe you should ask me again then.::

Cliffjumper laughed. ::I’ll try to remember that.::

It was a nice day, as nice as summer days could get, and Bumblebee and Cliffjumper set a pace that Trailbreaker could follow without wearing himself out. Even with that, it didn’t take long before they were further away from the Ark than he’d been since before the sparkling.

::How far are we going?:: He was getting a little nervous about the amount of fuel he was going through.

::Not much further,:: Bumblebee replied brightly. ::We’ll be there in about five minutes.::

Well, five minutes should be fine. Though he couldn’t remember if there was anything five minutes from where they were that was actually worth going to see.

Soon Bumblebee took a left onto a side-road that snaked through the woods. A few minutes in there was a big dirt lot.

And on that lot, someone was waiting for them.

Cliffjumper transformed with a flourish. “Welcome back, mechs! Hope your mission went okay!”

“It went as well as we could have hoped,” Hot Spot replied, a grin in the shine of his visor. “Though we’re glad to be back. Some more than others, if I’m being honest.”

Trailbreaker didn’t really listen to him. He was looking for First Aid. He didn’t seem to be there.

“Well, we’re off to patrol,” Bumblebee said, wiggling on his wheels and turning in a quick donut. “See you around, guys!”

Blades transformed as well, leaping into the air. “I’m taking the shortest way back. There’s a wash rack with my name on it.”

Streetwise snorted as Blades took off. “Yeah, and a very eager Aerialbot who’s been pinging him all the fricking time. I swear, Slinger’s got the least patience of anyone I’ve ever met.” He shot Trailbreaker a smile. “First Aid’s gone on ahead. Follow the path, you won’t miss him.”

Oh.

Oh, this was a setup.

He got his suspicions confirmed when Hot Spot transformed and flashed his lights once before driving back to the main road. One by one, the other Protectobots followed him.

Trailbreaker was left alone in the woods.

Heh. Crafty slaggers. And this had Ratchet’s endorsement as well. He almost wondered how many of the Ark’s crew had been working to make this happen, but it wasn’t something he really wanted to know.

Instead, he headed off in the direction Streetwise had indicated.

It wasn’t a long walk. The dirt road wound on through the trees, turning around an outcrop of rock, and there First Aid was. He was sitting on the bank of what turned out to be a river that had dug its way into the soil to create a chasm, and was looking down at the water with clear fascination.

He was also sitting on a mesh-covered tarp that mostly resembled a giant picnic blanket.

“Hey, Aid,” Trailbreaker said, softly enough to only barely be heard over the rushing water.

“Trailbreaker!” First Aid stood up and shot him a blinding smile, and Trailbreaker forgot to vent for a moment.

First Aid was beautiful. The sun cut across his plating, highlighting the crisp whites and pretty red angles, and reflecting in the chrome and windshield. Trailbreaker couldn’t look away.

“I missed you,” he blurted, blushing instantly. He had, he just hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

If anything, though, First Aid’s smile brightened even further. Trailbreaker hadn’t thought it was possible. “That makes two of us. I missed you too.” He sat back down and patted the blanket. “Sit with me? I bet you need fuel.”

“I always need fuel,” Trailbreaker replied with an easy smile. Saying it didn’t sting as much as it had anymore. There was plenty of fuel to go around now, and he had good reasons for needing to fuel as much as he did. “Have you tried Skyfire’s solar energon yet?”

As always, Trailbreaker was very comfortable with First Aid. He didn’t even need to talk, it was enough to just sit there. First Aid had such a peaceful energy about him. Not that they sat in silence for long – First Aid was as curious as always, and it seemed he wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew exactly what Trailbreaker had been up to while he’d been gone.

“Really? They built a playground?” He giggled. “I can’t wait to see that. I bet it’s great.”

“It’s perfect,” Trailbreaker agreed, draining the last of his cube and pulling out another one. “I’ll take you there when we have time. I should be able to drive for a while longer.”

“You should.” First Aid leaned into him, resting against his shoulder. “How’re you holding up?”

“Better, now that you’re back,” Trailbreaker replied – again, a little more honest than he’d intended. “I… I’m beginning to feel tired again. I had to go up on supplements.”

First Aid frowned, mouth a little moue of discontent. “That’s a problem. You know, in this kind of case you can go to someone else.”

Trailbreaker didn’t reply to that. He was beginning to realize that he didn’t want to go to anyone else, and the idea worried him. It worried him a lot. He knew well enough that First Aid didn’t have a reason to stay once the sparkling didn’t need him anymore. They’d probably still be friends, but not more.

As always, First Aid seemed to understand him. “Or we can ask Prowl to keep the Protectobots close to base as much as possible. That way I’ll be on hand to help.”

“I’d like that,” Trailbreaker said cautiously. “And it’s not really bad yet. Just – not good.”

First Aid’s fingers found his. “I think I know you well enough by now to know that you’re probably understating things.”

Trailbreaker chuckled. “Let’s just leave it on me being happy you’re back.”

“Fair enough.” First Aid winked. “Drink your energon.”

“Yes, doc.” Trailbreaker winked back. “So how was your mission?”

“Fine.” First Aid rested his head against Trailbreaker’s and drew small figures on the plating of his arm. “We helped the humans with a building that had collapsed. There was a lot of digging, but we found everyone.” He sighed. “Not everyone survived, of course. But we hadn’t expected that either.”

“I’m sorry.” Trailbreaker turned his head, nuzzled First Aid’s helm. “I know how that feels.”

First Aid nodded. “Yeah. I know you do.” He snuggled closer. “That’s part of what’s so great about you. You get me.”

Trailbreaker chuckled and shook his head. He could feel himself blushing. “Nah, I’m not that great. Average at best.”

“You’re wrong.” First Aid shuffled around until he could lie down in Trailbreaker’s lap, facing his abdomen. “Hey, baby.” He sounded almost sleepy. “Don’t listen to your carrier. He’s awesome, he’s just bad at realizing it.”

Trailbreaker’s hand somehow settled on First Aid’s shoulder, rubbing over plating that wasn’t as smooth and clean as it should be. “You sound tired.”

“Spending most of the days and nights shifting through rubble will do that to a mech.” First Aid’s optics dimmed slowly. “Plus, you’re very comfortable.”

Or First Aid was just that tired. Considering that his optics had gone completely dark and his vents were evening out, that was much more likely.

Well, the mesh-covered tarp he was sitting on was soft, and he still had a cube or two to fuel on. Letting First Aid have a nap couldn’t hurt any.

The sun was low on the horizon by the time First Aid stirred again. He looked adorably groggy, almost lost, and Trailbreaker chuckled at the sight. “Hey.”

“Slag,” First Aid groaned. “Remind me to never sleep on the ground like this again.” He sat up slowly, shaking his head. “Wow. I’m all woozy. And it’s getting really late. We need to be going back.”

“Give it fifteen minutes or so, and we’re in a great location for watching the sunset,” Trailbreaker pointed out. “If you want.”

First Aid giggled. “Sounds romantic. Yeah, I’d like that.”

Damn, now Trailbreaker was blushing again. What was going on? He’d never been this awkward around First Aid before. “More fuel? You probably need it as much as I do.”

“You’re not wrong. Ratchet would be protesting if he knew how low my tanks have dipped this week. I’m not back up to capacity yet.” First Aid downed the fuel eagerly. “This is really good.”

“Tell Skyfire that. And Optimus, too. They’ll like hearing it.” Trailbreaker sat still as First Aid settled against him, helm resting against his shoulder. He was so close that they were touching from helm to hip. Putting an arm around First Aid’s shoulders felt very natural. “I know I promised you a drive when I was better,” he said impulsively. “And I’m not sure the drive back to the Ark counts. Want to go outside with me again tomorrow? I have a short duty shift in the morning, but I have the afternoon off?”

“I’d like that.” First Aid’s voice was soft. “Yeah, I’d really like that. There’s this little place by the lake I’ve been meaning to show you. The water’s really clear.”

“Sounds fun.” Trailbreaker caught himself nuzzling First Aid’s helm again. Primus, what was he doing? “We can bring fuel again, make a day out of it. Well, most of a day anyway. When are you back on shift?”

“I’ve got a couple of days off.” First Aid’s fingers played absently over Trailbreaker’s leg. “So I’ll be back for your next check-up, I think. Unless your rhythm’s been thrown off.”

“Good,” Trailbreaker said with real feeling. “All my respect to Ratchet, but I much prefer your touch to his.”

First Aid laughed, loudly enough to spook a flock of birds into taking to the sky. “Well I should hope so, since I’m the one in your berth and not him.”

Trailbreaker could feel his faceplates heating up again. Dammit, he had no composure today. “You know what I mean.”

First Aid was really adorable when he giggled. “I know. You did kind of set yourself up for that one, though. Ratchet would have teased you mercilessly.”

“That’s another reason I’m glad you’re you and not him.” Slag, Trailbreaker, shut up already.

As if on cue, the sun touched the horizon. It looked just as amazing as Trailbreaker had expected, reds and oranges reaching across the sky, and First Aid made a small awed noise next to him and snuggled closer.

They sat still like that until the reds had faded to purples and teals, and the light had begun fading around them.

“Now we really need to get back,” First Aid sighed. “Or we’ll be driving in the dark, and I’m not up to that today. Come on.”

Trailbreaker’s plating felt cold where they’d touched as First Aid shifted away.

The drive back to the Ark was as uneventful as the drive away from it had been. The silence was pleasant, companionable, and Trailbreaker was almost sad to see the familiar orange engines ahead.

He transformed as they came up to the mountain, stretching and twisting to work the kinks out. He still wasn’t used to driving much. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Actually…” First Aid sounded shy again, the way he did when he wanted something or wanted to suggest something and wasn’t sure it would be appreciated. “My brothers aren’t expecting me back tonight. I thought that – well, maybe – I thought maybe I could stay with you.” His visor brightened, part embarrassment and part smile. “You did say you were lagging.”

“I did say that, didn’t I.” Not that he’d object to the company, or the interfacing. His frame was craving it at this point.

If he was being honest with himself, he had missed the intimacy of it as well.

“I’ll need to swing by the rec and pick up a few more cubes. And maybe the wash racks.”

“Definitely the wash racks.” First Aid smiled up at him. “I’m probably even grittier than you are, and from a medical standpoint, the warmth should do those tense cables of yours a world of good. Come on.”

He couldn’t deny the appeal of that. They weren’t far from the closest wash rack either, but First Aid shook his head. “Not that one. Let’s go to the one nearest your quarters, just in case…” He smiled and blushed, and Trailbreaker blushed as well at the implication, and when had he turned into a newbuild about this? They’d interfaced several times a week for weeks, why was he suddenly blushing about it now?

Still, he followed First Aid. Let him maneuver him in under the hot water. Cleaned off First Aid’s back when asked, and couldn’t help running his fingers slowly over gaps in white and red plating and shiny chrome cables. His temperature was climbing steadily by the time First Aid was clean and had Trailbreaker kneel, so he could get to his neck cables properly. The touch was professional and efficient, nothing like Trailbreaker’s wandering hands, but Trailbreaker could feel First Aid’s scalding vents against his back. They were both working themselves into quivering messes.

When First Aid moved to stand in front of him, lifting Trailbreaker’s chin up to get at his throat with a soft sponge, Trailbreaker’s hands ended up on First Aid’s hips almost of their own accord. The plating was smooth and slick under his hands, and he couldn’t resist rubbing tiny circles over First Aid’s pelvis.

First Aid groaned. “Keep that up, and we’ll have to wash all over again.”

“Good,” Trailbreaker heard himself say, and he leaned forward and mouthed at First Aid’s abdomen. “I want you.”

“Primus,” First Aid whimpered, and the sound of his spike cover sliding open was drowned out by the triple beep of a door locking with medical override codes. “Trailbreaker…”

Trailbreaker had never interfaced in the wash racks before. He’d never thought of himself as someone who’d be that exhibitionistic, who wouldn’t be able to wait until he could get back to a berth. But he found himself craving First Aid and completely unwilling to wait, and settling back against the wall to let First Aid slip in between his thighs was suddenly the easiest thing in the world.

There was no such thing as foreplay. Trailbreaker thought maybe having spent a week apart from First Aid was foreplay enough. He was slick and ready as First Aid slid into him, mouth on Trailbreaker’s neck cables and hands roving wherever he could reach, and Trailbreaker thought briefly that it had been worth the wait before pleasure took him.

The solvent was going cold and the room was full of steam, and First Aid had black marks on his legs and pelvis. Trailbreaker traced every one with the tip of a finger. He was sure he himself also had the telltale red and white, but he didn’t really care. He was too warm and comfortable and sated.

First Aid took his hand, nuzzling into the palm. “Drying off, fuel, then your berth?”

Just the words had Trailbreaker heating up again. “What about drying off, then my berth and the four cubes I’ve got in my room for emergencies?”

First Aid’s visor flared. “I’m all for that.” He leaned forward and pressed himself against Trailbreaker for a moment, then stood up and held out a hand. “You coming?”

Trailbreaker grinned. “Oh, you bet I am.” His temperature rose a notch at the resulting giggle, and he took First Aid’s hand to stand.

The night was still young, after all.


	15. Chapter 15

Three drives, one picnic and two movie nights later, and Trailbreaker had a hard time objecting when Mirage once again asked if he and First Aid were dating.

“We haven’t put a name to it,” he tried. “We’re just hanging out. First Aid has said we’re friends.”

“Of course you are.” Mirage winked and moved one of the pieces on the chessboard between them. Trailbreaker could already tell that Mirage would probably win. “Hound and I are also the dearest of friends. We simply happen to also love each other.”

Trailbreaker rolled his optics. “I don’t think the situations can compare.”

“Well, maybe not yet,” Mirage allowed. “After all, you haven’t been together that long.”

“We’re not together now,” Trailbreaker said, most likely in vain, and as expected, Mirage only giggled at him.

“Of course you’re not. I’m afraid you’re going to have to try that one on someone who hasn’t seen you two together lately, Trailbreaker.” Mirage smiled. “It is very obvious to me that you are.”

There would be no changing Mirage’s mind about this, apparently. Trailbreaker wasn’t sure he even had grounds to argue.

“Can we talk about something else, please,” he begged as his bishop took out one of Mirage’s peasants. “Like where Hound is, for instance.”

“On patrol with Sideswipe,” Mirage replied, moving his king out of immediate danger. “He’ll be back later tonight. I’m looking forward to his return.” His smile turned lascivious. “We’ve made certain plans.”

“More than I need to know, ‘Raj.” Damn, now his own king was in danger. How had Mirage gotten him on the defensive already? “You’re pummeling me today.”

“You’re distracted.” Mirage winked. “Thoughts of a certain medic, I’ll bet.”

Trailbreaker couldn’t really deny it. He did find himself thinking about First Aid a lot. His mind seemed to have two main tracks these days – First Aid and the sparkling – and his thoughts kept returning to them, no matter what he was supposed to be doing. Like monitor duty. Or recharge.

Or playing chess, apparently. His king was well and truly trapped.

“Check mate,” Mirage said softly. “Your mind isn’t in the game today, is it?”

Trailbreaker shrugged. “Guess not.”

Mirage rested his elbows on the chessboard, folded his arms under his chin. There was this glow in his optics that, frankly, made Trailbreaker a little nervous. “Tell me about him.”

“About First Aid?”

“Of course about First Aid, who else is occupying your thoughts these days?” He smiled. “Tell me about your medic.”

Where to even start? “Well… He’s kind, and smart, and really sweet. He’s very skillful, and he’s eager to learn more all the time.” Which made him a very diligent berth partner – he’d found more sweet spots on Trailbreaker’s frame than Trailbreaker had known he had, and he’d better cut _that_ thought right away or Mirage would be guessing why he was blushing. “He’s… He’s got this way about him that you see the sweet and the gentle and think he’s all fluff, but then he’ll snark right back at Ratchet and stand up to Sunstreaker when Sideswipe is injured and just. Not take slag from anybody. And he’s funny, Primus, his sense of humor just sneaks up on you. I don’t think I’ve ever – um.”

“Ever what?” Mirage looked all charmed, like this was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. Trailbreaker suddenly knew Mirage wouldn’t gossip about this, or tease him. He wouldn’t be ridiculed for daring to feel for First Aid.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy,” he said quietly. “I know it sounds sappy, but it’s true.”

“It sounds romantic,” Mirage said firmly. “You really do care about him. And I can tell he cares just as much about you.” His optics softened. “You deserve this, Trailbreaker. You’re both good mechs. You deserve to be happy together, if that is your wish.”

“Heh. Thanks.” He glanced down at the board again – Mirage’s earnest look was too much to focus on. “Another game?”

“I don’t think your mind is in it,” Mirage teased. “Hound will be back soon as well.” He looked over Trailbreaker’s shoulder. “And if I’m not mistaken, your medic is here looking for you.”

Trailbreaker turned in his chair. Sure enough, First Aid was there, hovering inside the door and clearly looking for someone. His visor brightened as Trailbreaker stood, and he gave this adorable little wave and hurried over.

“Well, that is my cue to leave,” Mirage said, winking. “Thank you for playing with me, Trailbreaker. Good evening, First Aid.”

“Hi, Mirage! You don’t have to leave, you know.” First Aid looked sheepish. “I didn’t mean to scare you off.”

“Oh, I really do need to leave, darling.” That look was back on Mirage’s face, the one that said he was thinking about something lewd. “Third wheels tend to get in the way, and I have a lover of my own to return to. You two have a good evening.”

First Aid stared at him as he walked away. “You know,” he mused, “sometimes I think that mech has a filthier mind than anyone gives him credit for.”

“He does,” Trailbreaker replied. “And trust me, you don’t want to know.” He smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi.” First Aid’s voice was soft, but his visor was bright and happy, and not for the first time, Trailbreaker wanted to kiss him.

For all the interfacing they’d been doing, kissing hadn’t been part of it. Somehow, kissing felt like it would have taken everything into a completely different zone, like there was a difference between what they were doing when First Aid was a friend helping him out and then the same thing with kisses involved. Like it was more intimate to kiss than to interface, like it meant more.

Still, Trailbreaker wanted to kiss First Aid so badly it almost hurt.

“You off shift?” he asked, trying desperately to distract himself.

“Yeah, until tomorrow afternoon.” First Aid tilted his head and shifted a little closer. “You have tomorrow off too, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “This smells like a plot. Who do you think we have to blame? Or thank, I suppose?”

“Does it matter?” First Aid’s visor brightened again as he took Trailbreaker’s hand. “Come on. I want to get fuel and then head back to your quarters.” His voice lowered to almost a purr. “Since it seems we have some time to spend together.”

Trailbreaker liked interfacing with First Aid. Scratch that, he really, really liked interfacing with First Aid. He liked how First Aid kept finding new spots to make Trailbreaker moan, even when he’d thought he’d found them all. He liked those breathless little noises First Aid made when Trailbreaker sucked on his neck cabling. And he really, really liked the way First Aid looked when he overloaded.

Still, with all that, the slow minutes after interfacing was the part he liked best. When their frames were cooling together, and First Aid was snuggled up against Trailbreaker’s chest, drawing lazy circles on his windscreen. Their legs all tangled together. Their vents in sync.

Trailbreaker wanted to have this forever if he could.

“What are you thinking about?” First Aid murmured, visor barely aglow.

“You.” Trailbreaker replied, enjoying the feel of First Aid’s smooth plating under his fingers.

“Yeah? What were you thinking?” First Aid sounded happy, and his visor was still dim, and Trailbreaker couldn’t look away from him.

“That you’re beautiful,” he admitted, not really seeing any way back now. And not too sure he’d want to take one if he found it.

What was it the humans said? In for a penny, in for a pound?

“And that I’d like to kiss you,” he continued. “If you’d be okay with that.”

First Aid’s visor brightened suddenly, but his smile was even brighter. And frag, now Trailbreaker was going sappy. “Really?”

“Really.” He cupped one warm cheek, thumb rubbing small strokes under the edge of First Aid’s visor. “I’ve been wanting to for a while.”

“ _Really._ ” And now First Aid was grinning, leaning up on one elbow so he could look down at Trailbreaker’s face. “You’ve been thinking about kissing me?”

If it had been anyone but First Aid saying that, Trailbreaker would have felt incredibly stupid. But there was no mockery in First Aid’s tone, no hint at a barb to come. He just seemed… happy. Excited.

Kind of like Trailbreaker supposed he himself would look too, if he hadn’t been too nervous to be excited.

“You know, that’s a bit of a coincidence,” First Aid whispered. “Because I’ve been thinking about kissing you, too.” He was leaning down, Trailbreaker realized, much closer than he had been. Close enough that Trailbreaker could see the shape of First Aid’s optics through his visor.

“Really,” Trailbreaker whispered back. He didn’t think he could speak if he had to. “That is a bit of a coincidence.”

Trailbreaker hadn’t expected their first kiss to be perfect. First times never were. And yet, it was. Not because they fitted together, not because there wasn’t awkwardness – because there was, Primus, there was too little pressure and too much and they weren’t fitting together at all at first – but because First Aid was _kissing him_. _He_ was _kissing_ _First Aid_.

Primus.

After an endless second, First Aid pulled back. Their optics met.

And then First Aid kissed him again. This time they fit together like they were meant to be, like two pieces of a puzzle; First Aid pushed down and Trailbreaker surged up to meet him, and there was a hunger to it that Trailbreaker had never felt before.

He wasn’t too surprised when his panel clicked aside again. Nor when First Aid was inside him a moment later.

Kissing and interfacing at once turned out to be more than difficult, but Trailbreaker didn’t want either to end. He curled up to follow First Aid’s mouth even as the kiss turned messy, and clung to First Aid’s back.

“Primus,” First Aid gasped against Trailbreaker’s mouth, one arm around his back to help support his weight. “Primus, ‘Breaker, you’re amazing.”

Trailbreaker moaned as First Aid managed to shift him just enough to find a different angle, somehow reaching a node he hadn’t known he had. He wasn’t going to last long, he could tell, not with First Aid knowing exactly what to do to make him fall apart. He could feel himself losing that fight already. But he could bring First Aid with him, if he clenched just so –

First Aid’s drawn-out groan as he overloaded was the hottest noise Trailbreaker had ever heard.

They collapsed together, First Aid still between Trailbreaker’s legs. For a moment, it was all Trailbreaker could do to vent and try to bring his temperature down.

“I get the feeling I should have done that a long time ago,” First Aid said at last with the faintest huff of a laugh. “Do we need to keep our kisses to private locations, do you think, or will we be able to stop ourselves if we’re in public?”

“Let’s find out.” And Trailbreaker kissed him again.

This kiss was again different from the first two, and Trailbreaker figured he could easily spend quite a lot of time kissing First Aid to figure out exactly how many different types of kisses there were. This one was soft, tender – Trailbreaker would almost call it sated, except he didn’t feel nearly ready to stop kissing First Aid just yet.

Soft, gentle kisses turned to quiet nuzzles turned to cuddling, and Trailbreaker knew he’d be in recharge any moment. “I think we’re safe for public,” he mumbled, tightening his arms around First Aid.

“I’ll kiss you in public if you want,” First Aid agreed. He sounded halfway in recharge as well. “Whenever you want.”

That sounded like something Trailbreaker could agree to. They would probably need to have a talk about what exactly they were to each other, if only so Trailbreaker knew what he could say to Mirage when he asked.

Post-interface cuddles were great, but waking up with First Aid might be even better. Trailbreaker was warm and snug with First Aid a comfortable weight along his side. He didn’t want to move. And for once, he didn’t have to.

He figured he owed whoever got them on the same off-shift a favor. It meant he could just lie there quietly, enjoying how First Aid was snuggled up against him and not have to think of anything yet. It was bliss.

First Aid’s mouth was lax in recharge, his cheek slightly smooshed against Trailbreaker’s shoulder. He was ridiculously adorable.

Trailbreaker couldn’t quite understand how it had taken him so long to see that.

He’d happily stay there and drink in the sight of his sleeping… lover? Partner? They really would need to have that talk – but his frame had other ideas. Ratchet would be really mad if he let his fuel levels get much lower, and he _would_ know. Trailbreaker hadn’t figured out how Ratchet learned every detail of his fuel regime, but he was likely to get a scolding if he let anything slip past the level Ratchet had deemed acceptable.

If he stretched, he could just reach the edge of one of the cubes stored under the berth. But stretching also jostled First Aid.

“Hnn?”

“Shh, Aid. No need to wake up yet.” There. Damn slippery cube. “I’m just getting some fuel.”

“Mmm.”

Damn, he was cute.

Trailbreaker managed to sit up just enough to down the cube without disturbing First Aid too much. One cube thankfully did the trick, bringing his fuel levels up to where he could risk a few more hours of recharge before having to fuel again. He dispersed the empty cube with a twist of his hand and settled back down. It took a bit more force than he was used to, and he almost looked forward to telling First Aid that he’d overloaded hard enough to still be weak-limbed several hours later. First Aid would probably find that hilarious.

“Trailbreaker?” First Aid mumbled, words and tone fuzzy with recharge. “What…?”

“Nothing,” Trailbreaker whispered, settling back in against First Aid’s front. “Recharge. We don’t have to be anywhere for a while.”

“Mmkay,” First Aid sighed, turning his head slightly and pressing his mouth against Trailbreaker’s plating. It wasn’t quite a kiss, but it wasn’t not a kiss either, and it made Trailbreaker’s arm tingle pleasantly.

“Sleep tight, Aid,” he whispered, leaving a kiss on the top of First Aid’s helm.

He didn’t get a response. First Aid was already in recharge.

A few more hours. Then they’d get up, go refuel together. Endure some more light teasing from Mirage or Bumblebee or the twins or whoever was there. Maybe go for a drive or a walk, or come back here and spend all day in berth together. Trailbreaker would honestly be up for almost anything, as long as First Aid was there. And he could still look forward to waking up next to First Aid, enjoying coming out of recharge slowly and spending minutes and hours snuggling.

He could really get used to this. Hopefully First Aid would want that too. It didn’t seem all that unlikely.


	16. Chapter 16

Sometimes – well, a lot of times – Trailbreaker felt he had gotten luckier than he deserved. If someone had told him a year ago that he’d be with someone who cared about him the way First Aid did, he would have called them a liar.

But First Aid was here, still in recharge, for the third time this week. Cuddled up against Trailbreaker like it was his favorite place to be, relaxed and apparently content. Trailbreaker couldn’t really doubt the evidence of his own optics.

“You’re lovely,” he whispered, as quietly as he could so he wouldn’t wake Aid up. “I’m going to go get us some fuel. I’ll be back before you wake up.”

First Aid mumbled something as Trailbreaker pulled away, his face now wearing a tiny little frown. Trailbreaker made sure to put the blankets close around him so he wouldn’t miss the warmth of another frame for a while. He glanced down at himself quickly to make sure he was presentable, then left the room.

This early, there weren’t many mecha up and about. Most had either just gotten off shift and had hit the berth, or had just started their shift. Trailbreaker nodded at one of the security cameras in the hallway. Whoever was watching them would probably appreciate it.

The rec room was close to empty. There was only one mech fueling, and he looked decidedly less than awake.

“Morning, Wheeljack.” Trailbreaker chuckled at the bleary look he got in return. “Up early?”

“More like up late,” Wheeljack replied, voice gravelly from disuse. “I’ve been up all night monitorin’ an experiment. Soon as I’ve finished this cube, I’m crashin’ for a few hours.” He glanced up at Trailbreaker. “You look good.”

“I feel good,” Trailbreaker confirmed. Slag, he could still feel last night’s overloads tingling in his system, making his fingers tremble and his knees weak. “Better than I have in a long time.”

“Good. You deserve it.”

Trailbreaker didn’t really know about that. But he wasn’t about to argue. He focused on getting his cubes and First Aid’s from the dispenser, watching the glow of the light solar energon. “How’re things with you and Bluestreak?”

“Good. Real good.” Wheeljack sounded happy, at least. “He’s… probably more than I deserve, to be honest, but he really cares about me.” Trailbreaker turned with his hands full of cubes to see the goofiest smile he’d ever seen in a pair of optics. “And I couldn’t be happier.”

“How do you know?” And damn but that just slipped out, he hadn’t meant to actually ask. Trailbreaker could feel himself blushing furiously.

Wheeljack was kind enough to not chuckle at him, though. Either that, or he was too lovestruck to notice. He tapped his chestplates with one finger. “It’s all in the spark, mech. Can’t lie with your spark.” His optics suddenly sharpened, zeroing in on Trailbreaker. “Hey, are you okay? Your visor suddenly paled.”

“It did? Weird.” Trailbreaker frowned. Now that Wheeljack mentioned it, he did feel – off. Almost like he was seriously low on fuel, but that wasn’t the case, not yet. And his frame was tingling. “There’s something – I don’t know –“

As if in slow motion, he watched as two of the cubes slipped from suddenly deadened fingers, falling to the floor and smashing to spatter energon everywhere. Wheeljack stared at him.

“Wheeljack,” Trailbreaker said, as calmly as he could manage, “I can’t feel my arms and legs.”

He got a glance of Wheeljack’s panicked expression before he collapsed and the world went dark around him.

Waking up to the smells and sounds of medbay was almost comforting by now. Even with Ratchet grousing and grumbling somewhere close.

“…think we had to worry about this on top of it all. At least you were there, ‘Jackie.”

“He’s not in danger?” Wheeljack sounded worried.

“No, not right now. It could have gotten dodgy if we hadn’t gotten to him this quickly, though.” Someone patted Trailbreaker’s foot. “He’s stabilized now, and we won’t let him get this bad again. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”

“That’s good. He scared me, dropping like that.”

“Understandable.” Ratchet’s voice was softer than Trailbreaker had expected. “But he’ll be fine. He was always at greater risk of this because of his mods. You go recharge, you need it. And if I hear you’re pulling an all-nighter like this again…!”

“Someone has to do it, Ratchet.” Now Wheeljack sounded sheepish, and Trailbreaker had the hazy thought that there was something else going on here that he couldn’t quite grasp. Ratchet must have given him something, because his processor didn’t seem to be functioning right.

“Then let Perceptor do it. Skyfire. Pit, even Beachcomber or Sideswipe could be trusted to watch and just make sure nothing went wrong. Not you.”

“But, Ratchet,” Wheeljack whined, and Trailbreaker would have chuckled if he could find the commands for it. That tone would never work with the Hatchet.

“No buts. Leave the night shifts to a mech who has only himself to worry about. Now go on, get out of here, or I’ll tell your mate on you.”

There was the swish of a door as Wheeljack left, and then Ratchet’s hand was on Trailbreaker’s arm. “I know you’re awake.”

Finding the command to light his optics was a struggle, and the medbay lights were bright enough to make him wince. “Hey, Ratchet. Why do I feel like slag?”

Ratchet’s face was serious, but not worried. Good. “Because your spark output is low. You lost motor function there for a moment because your spark couldn’t fully power your frame. The energy was diverted to your gestation chamber and processor, to keep the both of you functioning, but you will feel shaky for a while.”

“Damn.” He’d thought he was in the clear. “Can I sit up?”

“Sure.” Ratchet did something to the medberth, and Trailbreaker was gently lifted into more of a seated position. “Let me know if anything pinches.”

“It’s fine.” He sighed, glancing over at the monitors showing his vitals. “I thought I was supposed to be in good shape now.”

“I have been checking your spark output along with everything else along the way,” Ratchet replied, nodding at one monitor that showed a muted, squiggly blue line. “You were well within normal parameters last week. This must have come on suddenly.” He glanced down at Trailbreaker’s abdomen. "I suspect that sparklet of yours just did some growing or started an important development stage, forcing your systems to divert more energy to the gestation chamber.” He sighed. “That said, we should have been better prepared for this. Considering your mods, it was always a risk that your spark would struggle with this process. To be honest,” he looked at Trailbreaker searchingly, “I thought we hadn’t seen anything like this yet because of your relationship with First Aid. Regular merges would have boosted your spark, helping it manage.”

Trailbreaker blushed, looking away. “I – no. We haven’t – we’ve never merged.”

“Huh. Well, okay.” Ratchet tapped the monitor again. “Well, you’re going to have to start doing so.”

“What?” Trailbreaker still felt slow, like his processor wasn’t quite there yet, but he could have sworn Ratchet just said… “Are you proscribing spark merges as a cure?”

Ratchet smirked. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. I’d like to see your spark significantly strengthened before I let you walk back out of here. And you’re on full medical leave, starting now, for the duration of your carrying and after the emergence until I decide your spark is up to handling the strain again.”

Damn. He had hoped to be done with extended medbay stays.

Ratchet must have noticed his discomfort, because he winked, the slagger. “Don’t worry. I’ve put you in a private room.”

Well, that was at least something.

“I’ve also pinged First Aid,” Ratchet continued, all business again. “He’ll be here shortly. I’ll give you two some time alone when he gets here.” And there was that grin again, the one that said Ratchet thoroughly enjoyed flustering his patients like this. “I’ll be in my office if you need me, but I don’t think you will.”

Primus.

At least the office was far enough away from the private rooms that Ratchet would only hear them if they were loud. Probably.

Trailbreaker didn’t think he could take the teasing elsewise.

It was only a few minutes later that the door opened again and First Aid hurried in. He looked worried; it was there in the way he held himself, the tension in his shoulders and posture.

“Trailbreaker! Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. Well, as okay as I can be,” he replied. He plucked at one of the wires that connected him to the monitors. “Did Ratchet tell you what was going on?”

“Not really. Just that you’d had a relapse and were out of danger now, but I should – and this is a quote – ‘get your aft down here and see to that partner of yours before someone else has to’.” He stepped closer and took in the monitors. “I thought – oh.” He stared at the final monitor, the one with the blue line. “Your spark output is very low.”

“That’s what Ratchet said,” Trailbreaker confirmed. “I… kind of collapsed. In the rec. While getting our fuel. I can’t remember how I got here, but Wheeljack was there when I fell. He probably got me here somehow.”

“I’m glad someone was there.” First Aid sounded shaken. “That… That could have gotten bad.”

“I guess.” He didn’t really want to dwell on that. “So, anyway, Ratchet says I need to stay here until my spark is strong enough to power my frame again. And that I need to… Well, to merge with someone. To fix my spark energy output. So." He plucked at the blanket Ratchet had put over his legs. “Is that something you would consider doing? Merge with me?”

First Aid took a step back, still looking unnerved. Almost… stressed.

Trailbreaker’s spark dropped all the way down to his pedes.

“Trailbreaker, we can’t - that is - damn, I should have considered that this could happen.” The last was almost a whine as First Aid suddenly busied himself with checking all the monitors. Trailbreaker held as still as he could, hands clenched to conceal the trembling.

“You won’t consider it?” he asked quietly. He had to ask, even though he was sure he didn’t want to know what the answer would be.

“It’s not that simple,” First Aid said, almost too loudly. “There are factors – I don’t want you to – ah, slag.” He sighed, dragged a hand down his face before spinning on a heel and walking out. “I need to go look something up.” He paused in the doorway. “I’m sorry.”

If Trailbreaker’s spark hadn’t been as low as it could be already, those last two words would have done it. _For what it’s worth, I’m sorry_ echoed in his processor, Smokescreen’s voice as quiet as First Aid’s had been.

Of course. Of course First Aid wouldn’t merge with him. Of course he wouldn’t.

Wheeljack’s words intruded, as Trailbreaker stared at the door for what seemed like hours. _It’s all in the spark, mech. Can’t lie with your spark._

First Aid wouldn’t merge with him.

There was really only one conclusion Trailbreaker could draw from that.

First Aid probably wasn’t coming back.

His inner chronometer showed close to the beginning of the night shift when the door opened again, admitting a different red and white mech than Trailbreaker still hoped for. Not that he’d thought First Aid would come back. An hour or so after First Aid had left Trailbreaker had given in and pinged him. He hadn’t gotten a response. First Aid apparently didn’t want to talk to him.

“Trailbreaker?” Ratchet was frowning at him, and Trailbreaker wondered vaguely if he’d missed a greeting or something. His processor felt fuzzy. “Where’s First Aid?”

“He left,” Trailbreaker managed. His voice sounded broken. “A while back?”

“A while back?” Ratchet moved to the spark output monitor. “You’re not doing any better. In fact, I think you’re doing worse. Didn’t the two of you merge?”

Hesitantly, Trailbreaker shook his head. “Aid, he – he didn’t want to.”

Ratchet near dropped the wrench he was holding. “ _What._ ”

“I asked him.” Meeting Ratchet’s optics was very hard suddenly. “He kind of freaked out. And then he left. He said he had stuff to read.”

Ratchet was silent for a moment before huffing. “Slagger isn’t answering my comm. He better have a good reason to leave you like this.”

Trailbreaker tried not to get too hung up on the word ‘leave’. First Aid wouldn’t really have left him, would he? They couldn’t be over just like that?

Ratchet came closer, close enough to put a hand on Trailbreaker’s shoulder. “No matter what was going through my apprentice’s mind, you do need this. And you need it now. Is there anyone else I can get down here for you?”

Trailbreaker didn’t really want to ask anyone else. He’d only ever merged with Smokescreen, and he was completely off the table. And after First Aid’s reaction… Who could he even ask? Merging was private, intimate, you shared your very essence with someone.

Also, even considering merging with someone else felt like a betrayal. Even though First Aid had rejected him.

Ratchet seemed to sense his hesitation. “Merges don’t have to be romantic, you know. They can be platonic. Or there can be deep love involved, but not of the romantic kind.” He smiled. “Prime will willingly merge with you if you ask, for instance, despite what he’s got going with Skyfire. Pit, if you ask, I bet you can get both of them. They’d consider it an honor.”

Merging with Optimus Prime? Trailbreaker couldn’t even imagine that. He was still trying to teach himself to not call him by his title all the time.

Considering Ratchet’s words, though, there was one mech he could ask. It wasn’t something he wanted to do, but the way things were going, it didn’t seem he had a choice. “Hound. I can ask Hound. And Mirage, I guess.” There would be no asking just one of them, not for this. He would need to make sure both of them were alright with whatever would happen.

“I’ll get them down here,” Ratchet said, nodding. “I can’t order them to merge with you, but I can put them under medical orders to show up.” He glanced at Trailbreaker. “Do you want to do the explaining, or shall I?”

“I can do it.” At least, he thought he could do it. Hound and Mirage wouldn’t just leave him hanging. They wouldn’t just walk out. Well, he didn’t think they would.

Primus, what a mess. He felt all numb inside. And everywhere else, too, for that matter. “Ratchet, my arms and legs are all numb.”

“I’m not surprised.” Ratchet glared at the spark output monitor, as if staring it into submission might make it show better results. “Your readings aren’t great, mech. But we’ll have you sorted soon.” He sighed. “Damn First Aid.”

“He probably had his reasons,” Trailbreaker tried, even though his spark was plummeting just trying to make up excuses for First Aid. “I think he must have. I mean, I’m sure.”

Ratchet shook his head, though, clearly annoyed. “He’d better. Leaving a carrier like that.”

“Stay out of it, please,” Trailbreaker begged. He couldn’t stand the thought of First Aid being forced to come back and help, and the contempt and pity Trailbreaker would no doubt be feeling from him if they merged. No. If First Aid didn’t want to merge with him, it was better that they didn’t merge.

Trailbreaker didn’t have much self-respect, but he was better than to force an unwilling mech to merge with him. Even if it was a mech he’d actually thought cared deeply for him.

Well. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.

And now he was making himself upset. Slag it.

“Ratchet,” he asked impulsively, “how is my sparkling?”

A rare gentle smile crossed Ratchet’s face. “He’s fine and dandy. This doesn’t matter to him at all, your frame prioritizes his health over yours so he always gets what he needs. I’m sure you’ll feel much more of him in the coming months.” He picked up a tool Trailbreaker recognized from previous visits. “Want to see? Hound and Mirage are on their way, but they needed to step by the wash racks. Apparently Hound’s just come in from patrol. So we have time.”

Trailbreaker nodded. Like he’d ever say no to that. “Please.”

“Alright then.”

Ratchet held the imaging wand over Trailbreaker’s abdomen and nodded to one of the empty screens. “Look there.”

At first, there was nothing. Then Ratchet moved the wand slightly, and what had looked like nothing turned into a small blob. A blob with arms and legs and a little helm, still off in proportions but beautifully, achingly perfect.

“There he is,” Ratchet said softly. “Looks like he’ll be a grounder, which is what I’d expected. He looks to be right on track in his development too. He’s doing really well.” He shut the imaging wand off, but Trailbreaker kept looking at the image frozen on the monitor. Ratchet chuckled softly. “I’ll have that transferred to a datapad for you, okay?”

“Thanks, Ratchet.”

“Of course. Wait here, and stay still.” He closed the door behind him as he left.

Trailbreaker rested a hand on the plating over his gestation chamber. It was warm to the touch.

“I love you, sparklet,” he whispered. “And I’m sorry about your sire. Both of them. We can manage without them, can’t we? I’ll take good care of you.” He ignored how heavy his spark felt, how his optics wanted to tear up. “I’ll take the best care of you.”

As if in response, there was a nudge from inside him. Trailbreaker managed a smile. “That’s right. Me and you.” He leaned back on the berth, dimming his optics. He needed to get his mood back under control before Hound and Mirage arrived, and a nap seemed like the best way to do that.

Maybe things would look up afterward too. He could always hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't be too mad at First Aid. We need him to get this story where it wants to go ;)


	17. Chapter 17

The soft knock on the door woke Trailbreaker from a light recharge. It hadn’t been that long since Ratchet left his room, and when Mirage and Hound walked in there were still droplets clinging to their plating here and there.

“Hey, ‘Breaker.” Hound’s voice was soft. “Ratchet said you needed us.”

“Yeah.” Primus, he didn’t want to do this. “I have a huge favor to ask. And I’ll understand if you say no.” It would make perfect sense for them to say no, really.

Mirage sat down on the side of the berth, one hand covering Trailbreaker’s and giving a gentle squeeze. “We’re here to help. What do you need?”

There really was nothing for it. Still, he couldn’t quite meet their optics. The medbay blanket covering his legs was suddenly very interesting. “Don’t say that until you’ve heard me out. Um.” Slag it all, how was this even harder the second time around? “I kind of collapsed in the rec room this morning. Nothing too bad,” he held up his hand at Mirage’s sharp gasp, “but enough to land me in here for the time being. Ratchet says my spark output’s low, too low to handle both the sparkling and the rest of me. So, um. He says I need to merge with someone to help fix it.”

_Please don’t ask, please don’t ask, please don’t ask..._

Hound frowned. “I thought you and First Aid had been merging. Why is this suddenly a problem now?”

“Because you never did, did you?” Mirage said, perceptive as always. His voice was soft, almost gentle. “You would have been much surer of each other, had you been merging.”

Trailbreaker hesitated, then shook his head. “We never did.”

“Well then, where is he? Do you need us to go get him?” Hound looked around, as if First Aid was somehow hiding behind the berth or something.

“No.” Trailbreaker looked away again. “He was here earlier. He… I asked, but…”

“Oh, Trailbreaker,” Mirage breathed, fingers tightening around his own again. “Oh, darling.”

“First Aid doesn’t want to merge with me,” Trailbreaker said, as calmly and as clearly as he could manage. _Please, don’t let me break down now._ “He. He left.”

He could feel Hound and Mirage staring at him.

“He left?” Hound repeated, as if he was unsure he’d heard right. “Left how?”

“He walked out,” Trailbreaker mumbled. “Please, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” Mirage soothed, and Trailbreaker felt himself crumbling. “Okay. We don’t have to talk about that.”

Hound sat down on the other side of the bed, grabbing Trailbreaker’s free hand. “So what do you need?”

“I still…” He blinked, tried to vent evenly to get himself back under control. His arms were tingling again. “I still need to merge with someone. And I… You can say no, but I wanted to ask both of you. If you’d consider helping me with this.”

“You want us to merge with you?” Mirage’s voice was still soft, still gentle, with no trace of derision or disbelief.

“I’ll understand if you say no,” Trailbreaker repeated. “I don’t mean to intrude on your relationship or anything. It’s kind of a big thing to ask.”

In front of him, Hound and Mirage glanced at each other. Trailbreaker kept his focus on the blanket. There was a frayed patch along the middle, a few threads sticking out, and Trailbreaker stared at it as if it could reveal the secrets of the universe.

Mirage’s hand tightened on his again. “You’re our friend, Trailbreaker. You act like you’re asking the impossible, but you’re not. We would be honored to help you.”

Trailbreaker’s gaze shot up so fast his optics had to recalibrate. “What?”

“We care about you,” Hound said firmly. “We’re going to help you if you need it. That’s a given.” He smiled. “Don’t look so surprised.”

“I’m going to go talk to Ratchet,” Mirage said. He stood up, then leaned forward to brush his lips over Trailbreaker’s helm. “Don’t worry, my dear. We’ll take care of you.”

Trailbreaker turned his focus to Hound as soon as Mirage closed the door behind him. “Hound, are you sure? I really don’t want to mess with what you two have.”

“We’re sure.” Hound smiled. “And you couldn’t. We’re sure of each other too, you know. You can’t mess with that.” He glanced at the door. “And in case you didn’t catch it, this is Mirage giving us some space if you want to start up with me first. He’s perfectly happy with whatever you choose, whether it’s just me or the both of us, either together or separately.”

“I don’t even know.” Trailbreaker let himself collapse back against the pillows. “This wasn’t how I envisioned any of this, you know.”

“Yeah.” Hound’s voice was all sympathy. “Yeah, I get that. I’m sorry, buddy.”

“It’s okay.” Even Trailbreaker could hear that his voice was hollow. “Better I find out now, you know? Than later. If I’d learned he felt this way while we were merging or something –.” He swallowed the rest of the words, couldn’t bear even thinking them.

Suddenly Hound was there, warm arms encasing him, pulling him close and holding him tight. “Shh,” he whispered, and Trailbreaker realized he was crying. “Shh, ‘Breaker. It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. You’ll get through this too, and you won’t be alone, okay?” Hound pulled back enough to cradle Trailbreaker’s face in his hands. “We’ll be right here with you for as long as you need us. I promise.”

Trailbreaker didn’t know what to say. He didn’t really feel like he could say much, not without breaking down completely. Instead, he let his chest plates crack open just a bit. “If you’re sure Mirage won’t mind,” he started, not quite knowing where the sentence was going. Despite Hound’s reassurances, he still felt like he should offer him an out before it was too late.

“Mirage knows I love him. And he cares about you.” Hound shifted on the berth until their chests lined up, a faint line of light dividing his chest as well. “Trust me, buddy. We’re all good in this.”

Hound tugged at him, and Trailbreaker let himself lean forward. Tried to ignore the way Hound shifted under his weight, and just focus on the light spreading between them. He only barely noticed the door sliding open a tad and Mirage coming back, crossing the floor quietly and sliding onto the berth against Trailbreaker’s back.

He sank into Hound.

It was so, so easy. Different than it had been with Smokescreen – no passion, for one, but there was so much _love_. So much safety. Trailbreaker felt cherished, comforted, secure, and surrendering to it was all too simple. He could feel Hound in his core, feel his steadfastness and calm, the trust he placed in his friends. Feel the bright fire that was his love for Mirage, and Trailbreaker realized Hound had been right. They loved each other too much to let anything get between them.

_Heh. Told you._

Trailbreaker sank into Hound’s warmth, and it felt like coming home. Like being comfortable again, warm and snug and happy.

_I’ll take care of you, buddy. I won’t let you down._

Trailbreaker couldn’t reply. Instead he offered up his memories, showing Hound what had happened with First Aid. He didn’t hide away how he felt about it – couldn’t, not as closely connected as they were. Hound accepted it all, took it all in, and offered nothing but steadfast support in return.

The merge ended without either of them overloading. There was a crest of sorts, and Trailbreaker sobbed at the warmth of it even as his chest plates closed back up.

Mirage pulled him back against the pillows. “You’ll be okay,” he murmured. “We’ll make sure of it. Recharge, darling.”

Trailbreaker would have objected, but he didn’t have the energy for it. His optics were dimming before he was even settled.

Waking up was a slow affair. He felt sluggish, heavy, like something was on top of him and weighing him down.

Onlining his optics showed that something really was on top of him and weighing him down. Two somethings, actually. And it didn’t look comfortable.

“M’raj? Hound?” Frag, even his mouth was lagging. Forming words was a hassle.

Mirage sat up from where he’d collapsed over Trailbreaker’s legs. He blinked, optics recalibrating. “Good morning, Trailbreaker. How do you feel?”

“Off.” He tried lifting his hand, looking at the way the fingers trembled. “Lagging.”

“I can see that.” There was a faint frown on Mirage’s face. “Ratchet did say you were low enough that it would most likely take a couple of merges before you felt better. That’s also why you have that.” He nodded at an energon line Trailbreaker hadn’t even noticed, connecting his arm to a bag of medgrade. “Your frame needs the nutrients. But he said you could have regular cubes as well, if you wanted.”

Trailbreaker glanced at his trembling hands again. “Can’t hold it still right now. Maybe later.”

“Alright then.” Mirage offered him a smile and rested one hand lightly on Trailbreaker’s chest. “It is my turn, I believe. If you want to.”

Using words was too difficult. Mirage smiled as Trailbreaker’s spark light shone out under his hand.

Merging with Mirage was different again than merging with Hound had been. There was no passion there either, but strangely just as much love, and there was a care and compassion that had been less obvious in Hound.

Mirage, it turned out, was also sneaky. Even during a merge. Trailbreaker wasn’t even aware that he’d somehow been convinced to share the same memories he’d shown Hound until Mirage reacted to them.

_Oh, First Aid. You know, Trailbreaker, I don’t think his motivations are as bleak as you think._

Trailbreaker thought Mirage was thinking much too clearly for being mid-merge.

Mirage chuckled, both inside Trailbreaker’s core and in his audial, and the heat between them intensified and grew. _As you wish._

This time, the crest was a flare, burning bright enough to extinguish all other light and dropping Trailbreaker back in recharge.

“…doing much better,” Ratchet said. Trailbreaker onlined his optics and had to reboot them twice before he could see the medic. “He’s not well enough to be out of here yet, though.”

“Ain’t that a breach of patient confidentiality,” Trailbreaker mumbled, “telling them before me?”

Mirage laughed. “Not when we’re asking if we can take you back to our quarters and look after you there, darling.”

“You’ll need regular merges until the sparkling arrives,” Hound explained, squeezing his hand. Trailbreaker hadn’t even noticed he was holding it. “It would be easier to take care of you if you stayed with us. Besides,” and Trailbreaker could tell his friend was hesitating, “being by yourself in your own quarters all the time… I’m not sure it would be good for you.”

“It would be downright bad for you,” Ratchet said frankly. “I know you fairly well by now, Trailbreaker. Being alone with your thoughts won’t do you any favors.”

They were probably right about that. Still, Trailbreaker didn’t really appreciate them discussing this without asking him, like he was the sparkling. “Doesn’t sound like you intend to let me leave, though.”

“No.” Ratchet tapped the monitor. “You’re not out of the woods yet. I’d like to see your output level settle before I let you out of here. The merges you’ve done already have helped, but not enough.”

Of course not. Primus forbid there’d be a quick fix this time.

“You’ll need to merge at least once a day,” Ratchet continued. “More wouldn’t hurt. And keep on interfacing.”

All of a sudden it was too much. Ratchet didn’t acknowledge the elephant in the room, and Trailbreaker didn’t know if he was happy about that or not. Hound and Mirage were both looking at him with a mix of concern and sympathy.

The day had barely started, and already Trailbreaker wanted to be done with it.

“I’m tired,” he lied. “Do we need to talk more about this now?”

“No.” Ratchet shook his head, and Mirage stood. “I’ll go get your fuel, and when you’ve downed that you can recharge some more. Your spark and frame will probably be okay for the day, if you merge more tonight.”

Trailbreaker had a feeling he’d agree to anything if they’d just leave him alone for a while.

Mirage leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. “I’ll come by later. Stay safe.”

Like he had any choice, hooked up to a dozen monitors as he was.

Hound squeezed his hand. “I have a late patrol, but I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”

“Thanks,” Trailbreaker said, meaning it. He did appreciate what they were doing for him, for his sparkling, even if part of him also resented it. “Look around a bit extra for me, yeah?”

Hound flashed him a grin. “Will do.”

Being in an empty room was almost like a balm. At least for a few minutes, until Trailbreaker couldn’t pretend that nothing was wrong anymore.

Primus, how was he supposed to do this on his own? And it would be on his own, no matter what Hound and Mirage said. They could be there for him, but they weren’t there _with_ him. Not like that.

Not like First Aid had been.

When Ratchet came back in, Trailbreaker was almost grateful for the company.

“I tried to talk to First Aid,” Ratchet said without preamble, putting three cubes of very dense medgrade on the small table next to the berth.

The gratitude disappeared as if it had never been there.

“I asked you not to,” Trailbreaker replied. He would have been annoyed if he’d had the energy for it.

“I know. But he left you in a dire situation, and he didn’t show up for his shift after. I needed to have words with him just for that, really. Or I would have, if I could find him.” Ratchet frowned. “He doesn’t answer my comms. And the other Protectobots are covering for him.”

Trailbreaker didn’t know what to say to that. First Aid hiding away from everyone sounded a bit out of character. Maybe he was embarrassed or something.

“I need you to let me know the moment you feel out of sorts,” Ratchet continued. “Without First Aid in the picture, I’ll need to monitor you more closely. I’m hoping he’ll come to his senses soon, but if not, we’ll need to put you back on supplements again.”

By the looks of the cubes in front of Trailbreaker, he was already back on supplements again. At least the energon was still more fluid than solid, so he didn’t need a spoon.

“And you’re not leaving that berth.” Ratchet sighed. “I’m sorry, but unless your health improves you’ll be stuck on a berth until further notice. I didn’t tell Hound and Mirage, because it’s not their business to know unless you tell them, but without transfluid donations you’ll not be leaving this room. With both your spark and your frame struggling, we can’t risk it.”

“Okay.” Trailbreaker picked up one of the cubes. “I guess I’ll have to live with that.”

“That’s another thing.” Ratchet was suddenly much closer, a hand on Trailbreaker’s shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. I know you fairly well by now, ‘Breaker, and trust me when I say that First Aid walking out on you was his decision, and had nothing to do with you.” The hand on his shoulder squeezed for a moment before letting go. “If you need someone to talk to, let me know. I’ll send Bluestreak or Bumblebee or Optimus down here for you.”

Yeah, no. Trailbreaker wouldn’t be doing that. He knew what Ratchet meant, but the only one even remotely qualified to practice psychology among the Autobots was Smokescreen, and that wasn’t happening. Burdening any of his friends with this was out of the question, and burdening the Prime even more so.

He could manage by himself. After all, this was nothing new. He’d been left before.

Granted, it had never hurt quite this much. He refused to acknowledge that, though. At least not until Ratchet had left again.

“Drink all of those,” Ratchet said, stepping back. “And you know where I am if you need me. I’m on shift for a few more hours before Swoop takes over.”

“Yes, Ratchet.”

He downed parts of one cube under Ratchet’s watchful optics, and then the rest in quick order after the medic had left. Then he curled up on his side and let himself fall apart.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You get this a day early since I'll be busy all day tomorrow :) Surprise!
> 
> WARNING for mentions of very slight dub-con in this chapter. Trailbreaker's doing something he really doesn't want to for the sake of his own health and the sparkling's, and he dislikes it because he doesn't really want to do it, but he feels he has to. It's just mentioned, not described, and it's not actively happening, but I figured I'd warn for it anyway.

It was strange, Trailbreaker mused, how something could both suck slag and be moderately comfortable at once. He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t lived it.

As Ratchet had warned, he hadn’t been able to leave medbay. Hound and Mirage had argued, but Trailbreaker wasn’t willing to let them frag him – he had to draw the line somewhere – and so Ratchet had been adamant. He wouldn’t let Trailbreaker leave if there was even a chance that he’d get worse. And as it stood, he couldn’t even be taken off the energon line spliced into his systems.

Trailbreaker was weirdly grateful about that.

Not that he was excited to spend all his days in medbay. It was just as boring and demotivating and annoying as he’d suspected. There wasn’t much he had the energy to do, so the datapads and the tactical exercises and the chessboard Mirage had brought in all stood mostly untouched. Sometimes he would listen to music, but most of the time he spent dozing or fueling.

Which was why his life was also moderately comfortable. He didn’t have to think. And he tried his best not to.

Of course, he couldn’t always avoid it. Like when Ratchet decided that his spark wasn’t coping well enough and ordered him to up the frequency of merges, and Trailbreaker had felt a longing for First Aid that was so strong it had been visible as spark palpitations on the monitors. Or when his fuel grew thick enough with supplements that Ratchet actually handed him a spoon, until they gave up the whole endeavor and he had to get the sludge pumped directly into his tank via a tube in his side. Trailbreaker would have given a lot to have First Aid show up then.

But First Aid stayed away.

To add insult to injury, Hound and Mirage weren’t up to merging more than once a day with him. His spark was a greedy one, it seemed, sucking energy from its partners, and Mirage and Hound needed a day to recuperate between merges. So Trailbreaker had woken up one day to find Optimus waiting in his room, looking all gentle and understanding as he made an offer that Trailbreaker had to accept.

Merging with Optimus had been like being caught up in a supernova. Trailbreaker didn’t know how Skyfire managed it as often as he got the impression he did.

Maybe it had something to do with actually wanting it.

Thankfully, the Prime was strong-sparked enough to tide Trailbreaker over for a few days. So he’d only had to merge with him twice so far.

Primus, Trailbreaker was so ready for his sparkling to emerge. Get some semblance of his life back, even if it would be very different.

He picked up one of the rust sticks that Bluestreak had dropped off and Ratchet had thankfully let him keep, and nibbled at the end of it.

At least he got visitors to break the tediousness. Bluestreak and Wheeljack both stopped by often, still endlessly fascinated with the sparkling and carrying process. Wheeljack especially had taken to looking through the scans of the sparkling that Trailbreaker had taken to keep on his small berth-side table. Bumblebee and Cliffjumper and the humans were frequent visitors, and the twins came by every now and then. So it wasn’t all bad.

At least as long as he managed to either stay busy or not think.

Ratchet didn’t let him go distant for long at the time, though. And he seemed determined to keep him updated on what he’d coined ‘the First aid situation’, despite Trailbreaker fervently expressing he didn’t want to hear it. Ratchet was merciless.

First Aid was apparently still hiding away. Hot Spot had, after a few days of nagging, told Ratchet that First Aid was researching something and to leave him alone. The Aerialbots had been dragged into it too, to the point where Silverbolt had sealed their hangar so no one could get in without command override codes. Ratchet had tried his medic overrides, and Skydive had actually quoted him the regulations that said he couldn’t enter with those unless he had suspicions that someone inside was in need of urgent medical assistance. He’d even gotten Prowl in on it. It hadn’t been pretty. And Ratchet had been grumpy for days after it happened.

Trailbreaker was kind of grateful, though. Ratchet couldn’t meddle if he couldn’t even get to First Aid.

He twisted in the dark, trying to get his frame to behave. Spending weeks in berth wasn’t ideal, but Ratchet had banned him from doing anything more strenuous than sitting gently upright. Not that Trailbreaker had the energy to do anything anyway.

“Just a few months left,” he sighed, patting his chassis. “Then I can get my frame back and we can actually get to know each other. And you get to charm the bolts off everyone on base.” Well, mostly everyone. Smokescreen wasn’t interested. First Aid probably wouldn’t be, either.

The door clicked open.

That was strange. It was in the middle of the night shift, and Hoist had told him that he’d be spending his time in the office sorting files. Which was probably code for a light recharge, but he’d assured Trailbreaker that he would hear him if he pinged, so that was alright. And he hadn’t pinged, so there was no reason for anyone to come in.

Maybe it was Mirage? He was sneaky enough to get past without anyone noticing.

But it wasn’t. One glance at the red and white frame quietly entering the room was enough to show that it wasn’t.

First Aid.

He turned to face the berth and froze, visor bright and wide and locked on Trailbreaker. “Oh. Um.”

“Um,” Trailbreaker echoed. Not very eloquent, but he was shocked enough that it was just plain luck that his vocalizer onlined at all.

First Aid blushed under his mask. Even with a few weeks since they’d last seen each other, Trailbreaker recognized the tells. “I guess I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

Trailbreaker stared at him. “You snuck into my room hoping I’d be in recharge?”

That brought a wince out of First Aid. “When you say it like that, it sounds horrible.” He took a hesitant step closer. “Can we talk?”

Trailbreaker didn’t know how to say no to that. Even though he was afraid what would come of it if he said yes. In the end, he just nodded.

First Aid came up to the berth and sat down on the chair that Hound had used just a few hours earlier. He sat almost strangely straight, as if he was concentrating on what he had to do. His words were a bit stilted too. Trailbreaker got the sneaky suspicion he’d rehearsed this.

“I wanted to apologize,” First Aid began. “I should never have run out like that. I can’t imagine what you felt when I did. I don’t have much of a defense, except to say that I panicked and handled it very poorly.”

He was so formal, it almost sounded like Skydive or someone had helped him.

“And I also want to apologize for staying away. I should have come back. I should have answered your pings.”

“Why didn’t you?” Trailbreaker asked dully. He couldn’t seem to manage to insert any inflection in his tone.

“Because I was ashamed of my reaction. I couldn’t face you. And I thought you deserved someone better than me.” First Aid sighed. “After all, I treated you the same way _he_ did.”

Trailbreaker stayed quiet. There wasn’t much he could manage to say, anyway.

“It took Hot Spot actually sitting me down and talking some sense into me for me to snap out of it. And then I stayed away a bit longer because I had to do some research. I talked to Blades and Slingshot and Silverbolt, and I read through so many of the old medical files in Teletraan-1 that my language patterns actually went archaic for a while.” He offered a small, hopeful smile. “Air Raid and Streetwise made fun of me for days.”

All of that was well and good. But it didn’t actually explain anything.

“Please say something.” First Aid was pleading now, wringing his hands. “I really am sorry. And I missed you so much.”

Trailbreaker could feel himself crumbling. But if he’d decided anything in the last couple of weeks, it was that he actually deserved the truth. He was tired of being abandoned. “Why did you run?”

It was the one thing he needed to know. The common denominator, really. He knew it was the sparkling that had scared Smokescreen off, not Trailbreaker himself, but… What was so bad about spark-merging with Trailbreaker that First Aid had panicked just at being asked?

“I guess I didn’t explain that.” First Aid looked down at his hands for a moment before meeting Trailbreaker’s optics again. “Please, please believe me when I say it wasn’t about you. At all. I… really care about you, Trailbreaker. And I know I hurt you anyway, and I’m going to try to make up for that, but as to why I ran…” He sighed again. “I was afraid of what you’d see.”

That was about what Trailbreaker had expected. He could feel his frame begin to tingle again, reacting as his emotional subroutines pulled more heavily on his spark.

First Aid apparently noticed. Or he read the monitors next to Trailbreaker’s berth, where his spark output was displayed as squiggly lines for anyone who had the skills to read them. “Not what you’d see about me,” he hurried to add. “Or about how I feel about you. Both of you. But… I’m gestalt, Trailbreaker. My spark is linked to four others.”

That… That hadn’t even occurred to him.

Suddenly, Trailbreaker felt extremely foolish.

“Oh, no,” First Aid said, apparently noticing that too. It seemed they knew each other much better than Trailbreaker had realized. First Aid hesitated, then moved from the chair to the berth, watching Trailbreaker carefully as he reached for his hand.

Trailbreaker let him take it.

“No, don’t feel bad.” First Aid held his hand in both of his. “You didn’t know. And I spent two weeks doing research to figure this out, so I don’t blame you at all for not thinking about it. My reaction is not on you at all. It’s on me all the way.” He waited a moment, but continued when Trailbreaker didn’t say anything. “I panicked because I didn’t know what you would feel from them, but mainly because I didn’t know what they would feel from you. Your thoughts and feelings… You may have chosen to share them with me, but you didn’t choose to share them with the rest of the Protectobots as well. And… And I didn’t know how merging with someone who’s part of a gestalt would influence the sparkling.”

Trailbreaker hadn’t even considered that. “What… What did you find out?”

“Quite a bit and not a lot. First, Blades and Slingshot both said they’d never felt much of the other gestalt members while merging.” First Aid frowned. “I’ve also had a few words with both of them about merging and fragging and sparklings. There are enough sparklings on the way, we don’t need more.”

That was a peculiar form of phrase. Trailbreaker filed it away in his mind to ask more later.

“I talked to Fireflight, who seems to be the one most in tune with the gestalt bond for some reason. He’s sometimes felt the presence of Hot Spot or Blades when there’s a merge going on, but never enough to get any actual thoughts or feelings across. So that’s at least something we don’t have to worry about. If you still want to do this.”

Trailbreaker didn’t dare examine his own feelings too closely yet. It was enough for now that First Aid was there and they were talking. “What about the sparkling?”

“That’s where I had no luck at all.” First Aid sighed. “Gestalts are mentioned in the old files, but there’s nothing about gestalts and sparklings. It’s all combat capability and efficiency and the benefits of the gestalt mind in battle.” Trailbreaker just knew that First Aid’s lips were curling in distaste under that mask. “This war has lasted too long. But yeah, there was nothing. I don’t know how my spark traits will affect the sparkling, if at all. We could ask Ratchet, too, though I’m not sure he knows more than those files. That is, if… I mean.” He looked down at Trailbreaker’s hand. “I really do care about you, Trailbreaker. But I messed up bad. So… Whatever you decide is fine. If you want me to stay, I’ll be here. If you want me gone, I’ll respect that.”

Trailbreaker didn’t want him gone. He didn’t even have words to express how much he didn’t want him gone.

“I’ve missed you,” he blurted, and didn’t even regret it when First Aid’s visor brightened. “I.. need some time to think. But… Please don’t go yet.”

First Aid looked hopeful, it was there in the cant of his head and the glint in his visor. “You want me to stay?”

“I really have missed you.” Trailbreaker put his other hand on top of First Aid’s. “More than… Well. A lot. So if you don’t mind…” He tried to shift aside, to make room on the berth, but as usual his dumb frame didn’t obey.

First Aid seemed to get it though. “You want me to stay here with you? Tonight?”

“Yes.” Trailbreaker hesitated before patting the berth. “Here. Next to me.”

First Aid stared at him for a moment. Then a wide smile brightened his features. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

He let go of Trailbreaker’s hand to lean down and work the settings of the berth. It took some shuffling on both their parts, but eventually the berth was expanded to fit both of them and First Aid was lying stiffly next to him.

They looked at each other for a moment. Then Trailbreaker snorted and grabbed First Aid’s hand, tugging him closer. “Come here. We still fit together, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” First Aid breathed, settling in against Trailbreaker’s side and resting his head on his chest. “Yeah, we do. Good night, Trailbreaker.”

Recharge came easier than he’d expected. But First Aid’s presence had always been soothing.


	19. Chapter 19

He woke up slowly, frame fighting it. Arms and legs tingling, but that was familiar by now.

A heavy weight along his side and front that was also achingly familiar and comforting, for all that it had been a while.

Trailbreaker onlined his optics to look at First Aid’s dark visor.

Primus. He’d actually come back.

And he seemed to want to be there. Be with Trailbreaker. At least for now. It was up to Trailbreaker to decide what he wanted to do with that.

Part of him wanted to relish in First Aid’s presence and ask him to stay forever. Scratch that, all of him wanted to do that. But he didn’t have just himself to think about. And if First Aid wasn’t serious about him, about them… Trailbreaker wasn’t sure he could take that. Not again.

First Aid’s visor brightened slowly. Half in recharge still, he made a contented little sound and nuzzled Trailbreaker’s chest.

Trailbreaker wanted to keep him so badly it hurt.

“Morning,” he murmured.

First Aid looked up at him with happiness in his visor. “Good morning. Recharge well?”

“Better than in a while,” Trailbreaker admitted. “Thanks for coming back.”

“Of course. I should never have left in the first place.” First Aid cuddled closer for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

Trailbreaker chuckled. “You said that.”

“I did. And I’m going to keep on saying it until you accept my apology.” First Aid glanced over at the monitors and frowned. “You’re low on everything.”

“Yep. Always am. Ratchet’s going to come by to top me up any minute now.”

As if on cue, the door opened again and Ratchet strode inside. His optics were a bit dim, and he hadn’t managed to get all the red and yellow streaks off.

His gaze sharpened when he saw First Aid though, no trace of exhaustion left. “So. You’re back.”

“Yes.” First Aid sat up. “I am.”

“You do know we’re going to have a talk about this.” Ratchet’s tone was firm, no-nonsense, but not really angry. It reminded Trailbreaker about Jazz’s work mode, somehow. Like there was no room for argument.

“I know, and we will.” First Aid looked back at Trailbreaker. “I think there is another talk that takes priority though.”

“There is.” Ratchet nodded. “I’m glad you haven’t abandoned all your faculties. Okay, Trailbreaker, up you get. You know the drill by now.”

“Yes, Ratchet.” Trailbreaker sighed and adjusted the berth controls until he was sitting up, the panel in his side opening. First Aid stared as Ratchet connected the thick tube and the mineral-rich sludge that passed for his fuel these days began dribbling through.

“If you’re actually back,” Ratchet said conversationally, without looking at First Aid, “are you going to help out again? So there’s no need for this?”

“If he wants me to.” First Aid settled back against Trailbreaker’s side. “It’s one of the things we need to talk more about.”

Trailbreaker wasn’t happy Ratchet chose to talk over his head again. But this felt almost like a shovel talk somehow, and it didn’t seem right to interrupt.

“Good.” Ratchet patted Trailbreaker’s shoulder. “I’m going to leave you two to it then. Trailbreaker, Optimus is coming down in three hours for your appointment. Your spark should manage until then, but let me know if you feel worse. And if you want me to tell him to not bother.” With that, Ratchet turned on his heel and left.

First Aid was quiet for a few moments, one hand drawing idle circles over Trailbreaker’s plating. Trailbreaker doubted he was even aware he was doing it. It was an old, familiar habit by now. “You’ve been merging with the Prime?” First Aid asked quietly.

Trailbreaker nodded. “And Hound and Mirage. I had to. It was just Hound and Mirage first, after – you know. But my spark needed more energy than they could provide, so Ratchet brought Optimus in.” He looked away from First Aid’s face for a moment. “It’s not comfortable. He’s very strong-sparked, it’s like a torrent. But it keeps me going for a few days, so. I guess it does the job.”

First Aid sighed. “I have a lot to make up for, don’t I.” It wasn’t really a question. “Do you… Do you interface with them, too? Not that it’s any of my business,” he added hurriedly. “You have to do what you have to do.”

“I haven’t.” Trailbreaker shook his head. “Um. It’s bad enough that I have to ask them to merge with me. I won’t add interfacing to the mix.” He glanced at the sludge still trickling into the tube. “Even if Ratchet says I need it.”

“Based on what’s in that tube, I’d say you do.” First Aid was frowning, Trailbreaker could tell. “So your spark is struggling, your frame can’t keep up… How’s the sparklet?”

Trailbreaker smiled. This, at least, was a pleasant topic. “He’s fine. Want to see the most recent scan?” He didn’t even wait for First Aid’s response, just pulled out the datapad with yesterday’s pictures on it. “Here. Ratchet says he’s just as he should be. Ratchet says he’s likely to be a grounder, though we can’t be sure yet.”

“Remember the files we read?” First Aid said absently, attention already grabbed by the image on the datapad. “Alt modes won’t be apparent until the sparkling is a little older, unless it’s a flier. Fliers show early. Primus, ‘Breaker, he’s so beautiful.”

“Isn’t he? I can’t wait to meet him.” Trailbreaker rested a hand over his plating, where there was always some extra warmth these days. “He’s fairly active, too.”

First Aid stared at the datapad for a moment longer before putting it away carefully. He looked at where Trailbreaker’s hand was resting. “Can I…?”

Trailbreaker moved his hand aside, both surprised and not surprised at all when First Aid leaned over to nuzzle the plating over his gestation tank.

“Hey, baby,” First Aid crooned. “It’s been a while, huh? I’m sorry I left you both like that. I had some things I had to figure out, but I’m back now.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I missed you and your carrier a lot, you know. I’m going to work hard to make it up to both of you.” He rested his forehead on Trailbreaker’s plating. “Love you, baby.”

Oh, Primus. Trailbreaker was in so much trouble.

First Aid sat up slowly, almost reluctantly. “I know I don’t deserve to be forgiven just like that. But… Is there any way we could try again?” There was a nervous cast to his visor, and Trailbreaker ached to pull him close, to soothe it away. “If you don’t want to,” First Aid continued, “if you don’t trust me anymore, that’s fair. I’ll leave you be.”

He held himself back, like he was waiting for Trailbreaker to reject him. Like he was fully prepared to walk out of there if Trailbreaker decided he didn’t want First Aid anymore.

Just the thought of him leaving again hurt.

_I don’t want him to go. I want him to stay._

_I want him to stay forever._

The realization was a heady one. Trailbreaker almost second-guessed himself, just because of the intensity of it.

But not this time. He wouldn’t let First Aid walk away again.

Slowly, with trembling fingers, he touched the center of First Aid’s mask. “Open this?”

The metal clicked away instantly, and Trailbreaker took hold of First Aid’s shoulder and pulled him close. “Good,” he whispered. “Now kiss me.”

There were no words to describe how it felt to finally feel First Aid’s lips on his again. Trailbreaker could barely think for it, especially when First Aid made this needy little noise and pressed even closer.

“You mean it?” he gasped, in between kisses. “Really?”

This felt like an echo of something they’ve said before. Trailbreaker smiled. “Really.”

He didn’t give First Aid room to ask again.

At some point, though, they had to stop. If only because Trailbreaker’s frame really wasn’t up to anything strenuous, and though he would never say that kissing First Aid was hard work, it was still more than his frame could handle.

First Aid looked from where Trailbreaker was panting on the berth to the monitors displaying his energy levels. “Oh, ‘Breaker, I’m sorry.”

“You apologized already.” Trailbreaker raised a hand and weakly waved the words away. “Stop it.”

“I can’t. Not until you feel better.” First Aid kissed his cheek and settled down with his head on Trailbreaker’s shoulder. “It’s my fault you got this bad. But Optimus will be here in a couple of hours, you’ll feel better then.”

Trailbreaker was suddenly sure that he never wanted to merge with the Prime again in his life. He ignored the anxiety that reared its ugly head - he wouldn’t be rejected, not again. That wouldn’t happen. Hopefully. And if it did, at least he was close enough now to hold on to First Aid and keep him from just running off.

Though Pit if he knew how to begin. Even knowing that he’d already asked this question twice in the last few weeks didn’t make considering it a third time any more comfortable. And the memory of First Aid freaking out and walking away was too vivid to ignore completely.

But _oh_ , he wanted.

And First Aid seemed to want him to take the chance.

“Hey, First Aid,” he said, trying to keep as casual as he could. First Aid would react differently this time. He would. “My spark isn’t doing too well. Ratchet says my spark output is low.”

First Aid raised his head again, confusion clear on his face for Trailbreaker to see. “Huh?”

“Yeah. He says I have to merge, that merging with others will help strengthen and support my spark.” He tightened his arm around First Aid’s shoulder, completely unable to look away and watching as First Aid realized what he was getting at. “Is that something you would be interested in? Merging with me?”

The smile that bloomed on First Aid’s face was a slow, gorgeous, brilliant thing. “Yes,” he breathed. “Oh, yes, I would. I’d be honored.”

“I’ll tell Ratchet to ask Optimus to stay away for today,” Trailbreaker murmured and pulled First Aid into another kiss. Ratchet would have to be satisfied with a quick text, there was no way Trailbreaker would stop what he was doing to actually comm him. “Can you lock the door? I know Ratchet can override it, but can you lock it anyway?”

First Aid laughed. “Oh, Ratchet will stay away. He’s been trying to get me back in here for days. He might simply add his code as well and just not let me back out.” The door lock beeped a cheerful triplicate.

“Sounds good to me.” Trailbreaker somehow managed to slip underneath First Aid, so they were abdomen to abdomen and First Aid was kneeling between Trailbreaker’s legs. Having that familiar weight resting on him felt like coming home. “I’m not letting you run off again.”

“I’m not leaving you again,” First Aid promised, lips chasing Trailbreaker’s. “Never. Not unless you throw me out.”

“Won’t,” Trailbreaker replied, and when had his temperature climbed this high? He could even feel his valve lubricating, which was really not the point right now.

Maybe later.

Definitely later.

Even with all of First Aid’s enthusiasm, Trailbreaker felt a pang of nerves as First Aid’s chest plates slid apart above him. You can’t lie with your spark, Wheeljack had said, and despite First Aid’s reassurances, Trailbreaker was more than a little afraid of what he would see.

“Open for me,” First Aid whispered, one finger stroking down Trailbreaker’s central seam. “Let me see you.”

Oh, wow.

“What if you don’t like what you see?” His voice was so weak, Trailbreaker wasn’t sure First Aid had heard him.

But First Aid smiled. “That’s not likely to happen. I already think the world of you, Trailbreaker.” He lowered himself slowly, the light between them brightening. “Let me show you.”

Trailbreaker dimmed his optics and let his chest plates slide apart.

At first, he felt nothing. But then their coronas touched, and there were hints of a presence, full of warmth and affection and awe. As he arched towards it the presence grew stronger, surer, until there was no distance between them anymore, no border between what was himself and what was First Aid.

And oh, he could drown in First Aid.

There was so much compassion, so much care, such a steel core to him. First Aid was light and love and heat and happiness, and all of it was aimed at Trailbreaker. Even as the merge deepened, Trailbreaker found none of the things he had feared to find – no pity, no disdain, no apprehension or mockery or distance. Just First Aid, there, caring for him more than Trailbreaker had ever thought possible.

He wasn’t too surprised to realize he was sobbing.

The presence in his spark brightened, encompassing everything that Trailbreaker felt, answering doubt with care and worry with trust and affection. Trailbreaker was floating in it, offering up everything he had, and First Aid answered in a pulse so blinding Trailbreaker was lost in it.

_You **love** me._

_Yes._

It was too much, too strong, too heavy. Trailbreaker let the energy pull him higher and higher until everything was gone, the world and their frames and everything but what he was feeling from First Aid.

When he reached the peak, it felt like going supernova. Trailbreaker was offline before their sparks had even separated.

He came to slowly, foggily, barely aware of his frame. There was some kind of soothing sensation, warmth caressing him, a smooth sound in his audial.

He onlined his optics after what felt like forever, to find First Aid lying next to him, humming softly. He was stroking the plating over Trailbreaker’s gestation tank.

“Hey.” Primus, Trailbreaker’s voice sounded like his vocalizer had been constructed with barbed wire and rust.

“Hey.” First Aid smiled at him, the gentlest expression Trailbreaker had ever seen. “Welcome back.”

“How long was I out?” It was tempting to turn his head, check the monitors and the read-outs, but he couldn’t move. Trailbreaker felt like he was living proof that a spark overload could turn one’s systems into jelly.

“About ten minutes.” First Aid lowered his head to kiss Trailbreaker’s cheek. “I’ve been monitoring your systems, to make sure you were just resetting. It looks like you needed it.”

“I did.” It was still hard to move, but he managed to slide an arm up around First Aid’s waist. “I’ve never been knocked offline that long before. It’s never… Never felt that good with anyone else.” He hesitated as the memories came back. “I didn’t imagine it, did I? How you feel?”

“If you mean that I love you, no, you didn’t.” First Aid smiled again. “I do love you.”

“You love me.”

“Yes.”

It made no sense. But it was true. Sparks didn’t lie, Wheeljack had said.

“And it’s okay if you can’t say it back yet,” First Aid continued. “I’ve seen what’s in your spark. I know you care for me.”

“A lot,” Trailbreaker agreed, because that he was sure of. Love? Maybe. He didn’t have any basis for comparison, so he couldn’t be sure. “More than I’ve ever cared for anyone. Well, with one exception.” He touched his abdomen, relishing in the feeling of a very active sparkling inside. “Him.”

First Aid chuckled. “As it should be.” He pulled back slightly. “Come on, sit up. We need to get some fuel in you. And Ratchet will probably be in here any minute, now that he knows you’re awake.”

Trailbreaker groaned. “I can’t wait until I can tell Ratchet to butt out of my ‘facing life.” He let First Aid maneuver him upright, adjusting the berth until he was comfortable. “He’s monitoring me so closely now, I’d swear he knows what I’m thinking sometimes.”

“That’s because it’s clear on your face most of the time.” Ratchet strode into the room, barely pausing to close the door again behind him. “Never play poker, Trailbreaker. You can’t lie worth a damn. Now drink this.” He put a cube in Trailbreaker’s hand. “It’ll taste like slag, but down it anyway.”

Trailbreaker sighed. “I’m looking forward to regular fuel, too.”

First Aid giggled. “Don’t worry. You’ll get there soon.”

Ratchet’s gaze was sharp as he looked between the two of them. “Right. Let me know when I can ease up on his supplements.”

Trailbreaker couldn’t even muster up any embarrassment at the insinuation. He was beginning to wonder if he’d ever be embarrassed at his own frame demands and functions again. He was getting remarkably desensitized to all the prodding and check-ups and loaded questions.

Ratchet looked at his spark monitor. Then looked again, optics wide in surprise. “How many times did the two of you merge?”

“Just the once,” First Aid replied, sitting up and looking across Trailbreaker at the monitor. “What is – wow.”

“Wow?” Trailbreaker put down the empty cube, wincing at the chalky aftertaste. He really was looking forward to normal fuel. “What’s wow?”

“Your spark readings are much better than I had anticipated,” Ratchet said, still looking at the monitor. “They’re on par with what I’d expect to see after a merge with Optimus, if not even better than that.” He turned to First Aid. “Now, I know you’re not as strong-sparked as Optimus, and you know emotions don’t make a difference in the energy transfer of a spark merge. Any theories? Since you’ve spent all this time doing research and all?”

First Aid’s lips were pursed in a tiny frown. “You’ve read those files too, Ratchet, you know they say next to nothing about this sort of thing. But…” He lifted his arm, activating his comm. “Hot Spot?”

_“Yes?”_ Hot Spot’s voice was faint and tinny across the connection, but Trailbreaker still appreciated First Aid broadcasting it so they could hear. He wanted to know what was going on.

First Aid blushed. It was beyond cute. “Did you… feel a spark drain just now? Like when we merge into Defensor, but not quite?”

_“Now that you mention it, yeah,”_ Hot Spot replied. _“It was faint, so I didn’t register it, but there’s been a drain on my systems. Hang on a moment.”_

Did that mean… Had Trailbreaker somehow pulled on all the Protectobots’ spark energy? Not just First Aid? What did that even mean?

_“Yeah, Groove says he felt it too,”_ Hot Spot continued. _“What happened?”_

“Well, um.” First Aid blushed harder. Trailbreaker took his hand, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles.

_“You finally merged with Trailbreaker, didn’t you?”_ Hot Spot’s voice was warm and more than a little shrewd. _“Good. Trailbreaker’s one of the really good ones, Aid. You couldn’t do better.”_

Now it was Trailbreaker’s turn to blush. It didn’t help that Ratchet was standing right there, grinning at both of them.

“Um, yeah. I know. Thanks.” First Aid glanced at Trailbreaker, offering him a brilliant smile. “I’ll talk to you later, Spot, okay?”

_“Yeah, go be with your beau, Aid. Hot Spot out.”_

First Aid didn’t say anything as the connection dropped. He seemed captivated by Trailbreaker’s hand on his.

“Well,” Ratchet said, sounding more than a little amused. “That is certainly something.”

“I didn’t know that would happen.” First Aid finally looked up at them. “I don’t know what it means.”

“Neither do I, kid.” Ratchet glanced at the monitor again. “But with results like that, I’m not going to protest. Just be mindful of your limits. Trailbreaker, I had planned to tell you to keep merging with Hound and Mirage as well, just so you didn’t pull too much from First Aid’s spark. It doesn’t look like that’ll be much of a problem, though. Do you want to talk to them, or should I?”

“I will,” Trailbreaker decided. “Tomorrow.”

Ratchet chuckled. “Fine. “I’ll leave you two to it, then. Don’t break the medberth.” He dispersed the empty cube, disconnected the thick tube from Trailbreaker’s side, and left.

The door locked behind him.

“Well.” First Aid smiled tentatively. “Looks like I’m stuck in here with you.”

“Good.” Trailbreaker fiddled with the berth controls again until he was laying down, then pulled First Aid down next to him. “I need a nap.”

“Sounds good.” First Aid kissed his cheek as he settled. “Love you, Trailbreaker.”

Oh yes, he could get used to this.


	20. Chapter 20

Trailbreaker woke up ravenous. He must have burnt through the sludge Ratchet had fed directly into his tank, because his HUD showed very low fuel levels. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.

There were two cubes sitting on his nightstand, one of them cloudy with supplements. Ratchet must have been by while they were napping. Trailbreaker shifted just enough to pick one up and chug it down. There was less aftertaste to this one, thankfully.

He turned his head, and came face to face with First Aid’s online visor.

“Hi,” he whispered, but no sound came out.

_Hey_ , First Aid mouthed back, a faint smile on his face.

Trailbreaker leaned over and kissed him.

First Aid kissed back. One of his hands was on Trailbreaker’s cheek, the other around his waist, holding on. It was comforting, soft and warm and gentle.

Until soft wasn’t enough anymore.

Trailbreaker couldn’t pinpoint what changed. He just knew that one moment he was kissing first Aid almost chastely, and the next there was fire in his lines and a tremble in his hands and pushing and pulling until First Aid was above him, covering him, mouthing and nipping at his neck cables and teasing his seams.

He hadn’t even noticed his panel clicking open. Or First Aid’s. But he did notice when First Aid’s spike found his valve, shooting him into instant overload only to come back down from the pleasure high even more desperate than before. He clung to First Aid’s plating, legs thrown around First Aid’s hips, bucking up into every thrust until the air reeked of transfluids and lubricants and ozone –

And still neither of them said a word, or even made a noise. Trailbreaker couldn’t – he gasped and panted, but he couldn’t seem to find his voice. Not until First Aid tensed over him for the third time, back arched and head thrown back.

“Aid,” Trailbreaker whimpered, overloading again. “Oh, First Aid.”

First Aid collapsed over him, trapping him in heat. The whine of two sets of cooling fans was almost deafening in the otherwise quiet room.

Trailbreaker pressed his face into First Aid’s throat and stayed there.

It could have been a few minutes later or an hour when First Aid lifted his head again. Trailbreaker had cooled down by then, at least a bit, though he still felt like he could heat up again at the slightest touch. He wasn’t too surprised when he clenched his valve only to feel First Aid’s spike still hard inside him.

“Hungry?” First Aid whispered, trying to sit up. Trailbreaker held on too tight to let him.

“Yes,” he whispered back, pulling First Aid back down within reach of his mouth. “Later.”

He woke up to chuckling. Actual chuckling. And he was sated and sticky and content and exhausted, there was a heavy weight on him, and if he didn’t get anything in his tanks soon he just might starve.

Onlining his optics showed a very amused Ratchet hovering just inside the door. The weight on top of Trailbreaker was First Aid, still in deep recharge.

Well. At least their panels had closed back up.

He managed to sit up without disturbing First Aid too much. He was probably recharging too deeply to be brought out of it by anything less than an emergency klaxon, but Trailbreaker was careful anyway. First Aid was too cute when he recharged.

“If this keeps up, I’m releasing you into his care,” Ratchet said. He was at least taking care to speak quietly. “As it is, I had to activate the atmosphere scrubbers to keep the scents in here from leaking out into the medbay proper. Maybe even into the hallways.”

Trailbreaker snorted. “Oh, mute it. If you didn’t want this to happen you shouldn’t have locked him in here.”

Ratchet grinned. “Well, someone’s feeling better. And of course I wanted this to happen. It’s what’s best for both of you. Nothing I like more than seeing my patients healing, after all.” He made a show of checking Trailbreaker’s monitors. Not that it was necessary to give them such close attention – even Trailbreaker could see that his readings had improved, and improved a lot.

“Guess you won’t have to tube-feed me anymore, huh.”

“Not if this keeps up.” Ratchet tapped one of the monitors. “You must have dragged at least five overloads out of him for this much change. No wonder he’s knocked out.”

Trailbreaker hadn’t counted. He wasn’t sure he’d been present enough in his own mind to even consider counting. “I guess. I’m really low on fuel, though.”

“I figured.” Ratchet handed him a cube and stacked five others on the nightstand, within easy reach. “Let me know if you need more than that. You both expended a lot of energy, I want you fully fueled.” He smiled. “Looks like the sire coding kicked in, huh.”

Trailbreaker stared. “Sire coding? But… First Aid isn’t the sire.”

“Maybe not by conception. The name’s a bit misleading.” Ratchet’s lecture mode was familiar. Trailbreaker suppressed a smile at the realization of where First Aid had learned it. “His sire coding will have kicked in as the two of you merged,” Ratchet continued. “And it has nothing to do with who actually sired the sparkling and everything to do with the way he feels about you. It may have kicked in low-level in both Hound and Mirage, since they’re close to you, but not like this.” He chuckled. “Not to the point where they’d suddenly have the stamina for interfacing to the point of deep recharge, after enough overloads to drain a transfluid tank completely.” He patted First Aid’s leg fondly. “I’m glad he came to his senses.”

Trailbreaker wasn’t sure what to say to that. He’d have to give it some serious thought. “Does First Aid know? That that’s what happened?”

“I can’t be sure. He’s read all those sparkling development files, it may have come up. Hey.” Ratchet’s sharp optics bored into Trailbreaker’s. “I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not like that. His emotions influence the sire coding, not the other way around. Remember that. The coding doesn’t change how he feels about you, it merely redirects energy back to his core and interface systems so he can support you better. It’s a physical change, not a processor change, and definitely not a change of spark.”

Damn it, Ratchet really did know him too well by now.

“Now. I meant it about releasing you. Your levels are better than I’d even hoped for.” Ratchet smiled again. “Talk it over with him when he wakes up. Find out what you want to do, and let me know what you decide. I’ve got a lot of minor check-ups to get through, so I’ll leave you in peace for now.”

“Thanks, Ratchet.” He downed the fuel he’d been given and reached for another, and then a third. Primus, but he was drained.

And even with that, he felt better than he had since… Well, since before First Aid had left. And in his gestation tank, the sparkling felt like he was doing somersaults.

“You can feel him too, can’t you?” Trailbreaker murmured, touching the plating over the tank. “Yeah, he’s here. He’s back. I think he might even be here to stay, this time.”

Maybe. They still had a lot of things to talk about before he could actually believe that, but… Maybe.

By the time the third cube was empty, First Aid had started moving. His fingers twitched, and his visor brightened, and when he smiled sleepily Trailbreaker couldn’t help smiling back. “Hi.”

“Hey.” First Aid stretched, offering teasing glimpses of cables and protoform hidden behind plating. “Wow.”

Trailbreaker laughed. “Wow’s about right. Hungry?”

“Please.” First Aid sat up, but he didn’t pull away. “I’m exhausted. How are you doing?”

“Better.” Trailbreaker handed him a cube. “Ratchet says he might release me at this point. But that depends on you.”

First Aid smiled. “If it just depends on me, we’ll have you back in your quarters tonight. I’ll need to talk to Ratchet, see if I can be put on a lighter duty schedule so I can spend more time with you. Is he coming back later?”

“He told me to let him know what we want.” Trailbreaker shrugged. “We can comm him I guess. Are you sure?”

“That I want to stay by your side in this? Absolutely.” First Aid drained his cube and snuggled close again. “I meant what I’ve said, love. I’m sticking around. I’m not leaving again. Besides,” he giggled, “I get to interface with you every day, several times a day. I consider myself lucky.”

Trailbreaker rolled his optics behind his visor. “I’m hardly a prize.”

“You are.” First Aid sat up again and looked at him sternly. “I admired you before this even happened, you know. You’re kind and selfless and sweet and gentle, and you protect those who are weaker than you. You’re amazing, Trailbreaker. You heard Hot Spot earlier.” He leaned close, his forehead on Trailbreaker’s. “I couldn’t do better if I’d tried for vorns.”

“That’s not what he said,” Trailbreaker pointed out, teasing. “Maybe your selection here’s just limited.”

“Or maybe there’s no point looking for anything else when I’ve already found what I want,” First Aid shot back. “Want me to call Ratchet back in, or should you?”

“Let’s give him a little more time,” Trailbreaker decided. “He mentioned he had some check-ups to do.” Besides, he wasn’t quite ready to let anyone else in yet. He wanted First Aid for himself a little bit longer.

“Have you thought of a designation for him yet?” First Aid was back to stroking Trailbreaker’s abdominal plating, paying extra attention to the area concealing his gestation tank.

Trailbreaker shook his head. “Not yet. I want to meet him first, see what he’s like. So I don’t get it wrong. I know he can change his designation if he doesn’t like it, but still.”

“That sounds good. You’re going to find something good for him, I just know it.” First Aid smiled. “You’ve done really well so far.”

Trailbreaker hummed noncommittally. He wasn’t too sure he’d done that well. After all, he’d spent more time inside the medbay than outside it. “What do your brothers think? Of you spending all this time with me?”

“Oh, I get teased endlessly.” First Aid giggled. “They think we’re hopeless and adorable. Streetwise thinks you’re good for me, and I happen to agree. And they haven’t exactly said so, but I’ve gotten the feeling that they’re a bit jealous that I get to be this close to the sparkling, to be honest.” He kissed Trailbreaker’s abdomen. “But I hope you know, love, that I’m first and foremost in this for you. For the long run.”

“Yeah,” Trailbreaker whispered. “Yeah, I think I do know that.” Somewhat, anyway. It was a bit hard to believe. “Does that mean that if I wasn’t carrying… If this had never happened. You’d still be interested in me?”

First Aid grinned. “Mech, I was interested in you before you even saved my life that first time. Can’t you remember how nervous and awkward I was around you? Honestly, Blades was this close to just locking us in a closet together or something.”

Trailbreaker tried to imagine what he would have done if someone had locked him and First Aid in a closet together. “Huh. I don’t think that would have worked.”

“Me either.” First Aid laughed again. “I was so afraid to actually talk to you. Why would you give me the time of day, after all? Young and naïve and inexperienced as I was. If Blades actually had locked us up together, I don’t think I’d even have dared to say more than two words to you.” He ex-vented softly, tickling Trailbreaker’s plating. “If this sparkling hadn’t happened, I might still just have been watching you from a distance, too nervous to say anything.”

“Then that’s another reason I’m glad he’s here.” Trailbreaker rested a hand on First Aid’s back. “And even with that, it took me ages to get it.”

“I know.” First Aid sounded smug. “You were very oblivious, love.”

“Well, you can’t blame me. No one’s really shown any interest in me before.” First Aid’s plating was silky smooth under his hand. The whole situation just felt really nice. There was something about just lying there with First Aid, talking, forgetting about the machines he was hooked up to and the room he was in. It felt almost domestic.

Huh.

Well, maybe it was at that.

“I don’t see why. There’s a lot to love about you, Trailbreaker.” First Aid nuzzled his plating again. “I’m lucky.”

“ _I’m_ lucky,” Trailbreaker countered. “You’re amazing, First Aid.”

“We’re both lucky.” First Aid sat up and smiled at him, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. “Shall we call Ratchet back in here?”

“If you’re sure what you want to do.” Trailbreaker grabbed the berth controls again. He felt a million times better, but he still wasn’t up to sitting up on his own. It was still comforting to know that he would be able to move on his own again soon, if he kept improving. If he kept interfacing with First Aid. Which looked to be a given, at this point, considering everything they’d talk about. And the sire coding, which Trailbreaker was still a bit apprehensive about.

“I’ll comm him,” First Aid decided. “I’m still locked in here with you. Not that I mind.”

“Tell him to bring more fuel.” Those three cubes felt like three days ago. “I’m starving.”

It didn’t take long before the door opened and Ratchet entered, laden down with energon cubes. He dumped them all unceremoniously on the berth. “Fuel up. Both of you. You’re going to need it. Want a new scan of the sparkling before you leave?”

“Of course.” Not being in the medbay would mean he wouldn’t get daily scans anymore, so he’d take what he could get. Unless First Aid could take scans. He’d have to ask him. “How did you know we were leaving?”

Ratchet just smiled. “I know you two fairly well by now. Lean back, please.”

Trailbreaker knew the routine at this point. He twisted slightly, letting Ratchet get the best angle for where it felt like the sparkling was placed.

“Let’s see,” Ratchet murmured. “Ah, there you are, bitlet. Looking good. Aid, tell me what you see.”

The feed from the scanner was displayed on one of the monitors that always surrounded Trailbreaker’s medberth these days. The image on the screen was familiar by now, though always slightly different. Slightly longer limbs. Slightly more movement.

Trailbreaker adored watching.

“He looks good,” First Aid breathed. “He’s beautiful.” Then he seemed to remember his function. “Um. He’s developing well. No sign of wing nubs, so he’s most likely a grounder. His frame is filling out now, so the main construction seems to be finished. Wait.” He stared at Ratchet. “The main construction seems to be finished? Already?”

“Sure looks that way,” Ratchet agreed. “There was never going to be an exact emergence date, you know.”

“Um.” Trailbreaker looked from one to the other. “Someone care to fill in the non-medic in the room?”

Ratchet shrugged. “Aid, go ahead. I know you want to.”

First Aid was beaming, almost radiating excitement. Whatever it was, it wasn’t bad. “You know how we assumed you had two months left? We were wrong. The sparkling’s further along than we thought. Based on this scan…” He pursed his lips, examining the image again. “Maybe another six weeks?”

“Probably closer to four,” Ratchet said. “Look at his optics.”

There was a faint line of light where there had been just shuttered optics on the last scan.

“His optics are onlining,” Ratchet continued. “That means his power plant’s kicking in. Which means his spark is starting to power his frame, instead of dragging the power from your spark.” He looked at Trailbreaker. “If something were to happen that meant he had to be delivered now, he would survive. I’d like him to get some more mass to him before he decides he wants out of you, but in theory, he’s ready. I’ve never seen a sparkling carried for more than six weeks after their optics online, but yeah, I’d say closer to four.”

Four weeks.

Four more weeks, and he could be a parent. Six more weeks and he definitely would be.

“Primus.” He didn’t really know what else to say.

Ratchet transferred the results of the scan to Trailbreaker’s datapad. “I’ll say. We’re going to be busy here in a while. I’m going to go brief Optimus and Prowl, now that we have a more secure timeframe. You two fuel up and do whatever you need to. I won’t be surprised if you’ve left by the time I return.” He handed them each a cube. “If walking is difficult, carry him home,” he told First Aid. “You might feel a bit weak, Trailbreaker, but you’re doing fine. You just have to get your strength back up, and you’ll be walking again. No running, mind, and your transformation cog’s not active anymore, so you won’t be transforming until after this bitlet’s emerged.” He grinned. “The only strenuous activity you’ll be doing is in berth.”

Yeah, Trailbreaker wouldn’t miss the teasing. Or the berth rest.

“First Aid’s on full leave until after the sparkling’s born, barring emergencies. I’ll be by every other day or so for a check-up.” Ratchet opened the door to leave. “Let me know if anything unexpected happens.”

Trailbreaker stared at First Aid. “Four to six weeks,” he repeated dumbly. “That’s… not long.”

“No, it isn’t,” First Aid laughed. “Come on. Fuel up, and I’ll get you out of here and back to your own quarters.”

That sounded good. And having First Aid there would be even better.

Four to six weeks, though.

He really needed to start considering a designation.


	21. Chapter 21

Trailbreaker had never considered before how small his quarters were. Sure, they were the standard size, and he was lucky enough to not actually have to share them with someone, but they were _small_. Too small to house two mechs practically living together. Very much too small when one of said mechs spent practically all his time in the berth.

“I thought Ratchet said I’d improve,” he’d grumbled, not for the first time. “I haven’t been out of this room in days.”

But First Aid was adamant. He’d learned from the best, and no one was as strong-willed as Ratchet. “You’re still recuperating,” he’d said. “If you feel up to it tomorrow, maybe we’ll try the rec room.”

Maybe.

Trailbreaker didn’t get his hopes up.

The room was definitely too small for a mech and a sparkling. And if there happened to be two mechs and a sparkling, they’d be all but on top of each other.

So Trailbreaker made a decision. He waited until First Aid was in another of his coding-induced deep recharges, and swung his legs over the edge of the berth.

So far, so good.

Standing was a bit more tricky. He usually managed well enough, and could get to the closest wash racks, but he also usually waited until the overload fugue was not quite as present in his systems. If he was to manage this today, though, he’d need to do it before First Aid woke up.

One step, another, and the door slid aside for him.

Ridiculously small quarters.

The hallways were empty, most mecha either on shift or still in recharge. But the mech he wanted to talk to would be up.

Halfway there, Trailbreaker had to lean on the walls to stay upright. He was tiring faster than he’d thought. Maybe First Aid had had a point. He wouldn’t give up now, though, not when he was almost there. If he collapsed, he was sure someone would be along to give him a hand. Red Alert was watching the cameras, after all.

That was proven further when Prowl stood outside his office with an energon cube in his hand, watching as Trailbreaker approached.

“Are you sure this was wise?” His tone was gentle, but there was more than a hint of scolding in it.

“Maybe not,” Trailbreaker admitted. “But I can’t let First Aid do all my errands for me. I had to do something for myself.”

“Drink this, then, and have a seat.” Prowl gestured into the office, towards the spare chair. “What can I do for you?”

The energon felt better in his systems than Trailbreaker had expected. Prowl had added copper shavings and chrome, and the combination was surprisingly tasty. “I wondered if it was possible to request larger quarters, sir. I’m afraid mine will be too small for me and the sparkling.”

“Especially if First Aid stays with you,” Prowl agreed, insightful as ever. “I think you’re right about that. That said, space is hard to come by here. A lot of the larger quarters are uninhabitable at the moment. The _Ark_ really isn’t suited for habitation over time. Which is why we’re working on something long-term.” He sat back and pulled a datapad from the shelf behind him. “You can read schematics. What do you think of this?”

Trailbreaker looked down at the image on the screen. At first he couldn’t make sense of it. It certainly didn’t look like anything aboard the _Ark_.

Then it finally clicked what he was looking at, and of course it didn’t. It wasn’t aboard the _Ark_. It wasn’t aboard anything.

It was a city, a Cybertronian city, located in the middle of a desert or something by the looks of it. There was a landing pad, large living quarters, gun turrets and defense systems to rival anything Cybertron had boasted.

At the center of it all, there was even a giant spark chamber.

“A cityformer,” Trailbreaker realized. He was sure the surprise had to be visible on his face. “How…?”

“It’s very much still on the planning stage,” Prowl replied, reaching for the datapad. “And heavily classified. It won’t be anywhere near ready by the time your sparkling is born, and probably not for Wh– well.”

That was a bit disappointing, but it made sense. Trailbreaker couldn’t even imagine where they’d get a cityformer from. Those weren’t exactly commonplace, even before the war.

“In the meantime,” Prowl continued, “Grapple and Hoist are working on expanding a few of the rooms that are lodged against the mountain. They won’t be very big, but they’ll be big enough to house families, at least while the sparklings are relatively small. Those will be ready in three months’ time, I’ve been told, maybe sooner.” He smiled, a minute twitch of the corner of his mouth. “I hope that helps.”

“It does.” Just knowing that he’d have some more space in a few months settled him down a bit.

Hang on. “Sparklings?” As in, plural?

“Yes.” Prowl nodded. “We’d best be prepared for every eventuality.”

That was a non-answer, but it was probably the best he was going to get. Maybe he should put some pressure on First Aid instead, see if he’d spill what was going on.

Walking back to his own quarters was, if possible, even more tiring than the walk to Prowl’s office had been. Trailbreaker could feel himself trembling. By the time he finally pinged his own door open, he was ready to collapse.

And First Aid was awake, looking more than a little frantic.

“You were right,” Trailbreaker said. Wouldn’t hurt to try to get ahead of the inevitable eruption. “I’m in no fit state to be up and about.”

“Well, I’m glad you realized that at least,” First Aid said, sounding remarkably like Mirage in one of his snits. “Do you need fuel?”

“When do I not?” Primus, laying back down felt good. Every part of him was low-level aching.

First Aid hummed an agreement. “True. Well, we’re running out. Will you be okay for a while if I do a supply run?”

Trailbreaker reached for him. “Will you cuddle me after?”

First Aid smiled. He rarely wore his mask in their room these days. “Oh, I’ll bet you’ll be up for more than cuddling by the time I get back.”

He probably wasn’t wrong. Trailbreaker had a ravenous appetite these days, and not primarily for fuel. “Hurry back, then.”

First Aid kissed him – briefly, since they’d learned by now that anything even remotely resembling arousing would heat Trailbreaker up like nothing ever had – and stood. “I’ll be back soon, love.”

Trailbreaker dimmed his optics. Napping until First Aid came back would be good. The sparkling was calm, too, which meant he wouldn’t get his recharge interrupted by kicks to his tank.

Though apparently, it would be interrupted by a visitor. A rather insistent one, judging by the pings.

He sent the command for the door to open, but didn’t get up. Whoever was out there would have to deal with him as he was. It wasn’t exactly a secret that he wasn’t in peak condition.

He’d expected Bluestreak. Maybe Sideswipe. Hound, definitely. But it was Blades sauntering inside, a smirk on his face and a spring in his step. “Hey, Trailbreaker.”

“Um. Hi.” Blades was unexpected company. He’d seemed friendly enough, the few times Trailbreaker had actually interacted with him, but those occasions had been few and far between. “First Aid isn’t here, I’m afraid.”

“No, I know.” Blades tapped his chest. “Gestalt. Anyway, Aid wasn’t the one I wanted to talk to.”

“Oh?” Maybe he should sit up for this. “What can I help you with, then?”

“I just wanted a few words.” Blades sat down on a small stool First Aid had brought in ages ago. “It won’t take up too much of your time.”

“Sure, yeah.” Sitting up wasn’t comfortable, but at least they were on moderately equal height now. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you.” Blades smiled, but it wasn’t completely friendly. “I’ll be brief. I know my brother cares a lot about you. A lot more than he’s let us know. And I know he was a bit of a bastard recently, and I’m glad to see you’ve made up.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I’m here to tell you, though, now that you’re getting serious, that if you hurt my brother…” Blades paused, probably for effect, which was completely unnecessary because Trailbreaker was already staring at him. “If you hurt my brother, you won’t like the consequences. That’s all.” He nodded and stood up, one hand held out to Trailbreaker. “Might be a bit early to welcome you to the family, but I’m happy First Aid’s happy with you.”

“Um.” He took the offered hand and shook it. “Thank you? I think?”

“Sure.” Blades grinned again and sauntered out, as cocky as he’d been when he arrived. “See you around, Trailbreaker.”

As soon as he was gone, Trailbreaker let himself collapse back onto the berth again. He patted his abdomen. “That was weird, huh, baby? Might have been the gentlest shovel talk ever.”

He didn’t really mind. He knew the Protectobots were a close-knit unit, and they’d all shown support for First Aid’s relationship with Trailbreaker already. It was kind of nice to see them care about First Aid this much.

Besides, Trailbreaker had no intention of hurting First Aid. And he already knew he wouldn’t like the consequences if he somehow did. Because if First Aid left again…

No, he wouldn’t think about that.

He dimmed his optics again and relaxed. Maybe he could sneak a few minutes’ recharge before First Aid returned.

::Prowl to Trailbreaker.::

Or maybe not.

::Trailbreaker here. What’s up, sir?:: It wasn’t that long since he’d left Prowl’s office. Had he forgotten something?

::Red Alert just sent me a clip from the Ark surveillance systems.:: Prowl sounded almost amused, which was a bit unnerving. ::I thought you’d like to see it. Do you want me to transfer the file to you?::

::I guess so, sir.:: He wasn’t going to say no if it was something Prowl wanted him to see.

::I’ll send it to your datapad. It’s too big for direct transfer. Prowl out.::

Not one for social chitchat, that one. He and Red Alert were well matched.

Trailbreaker dug out his datapad. He hadn’t used it in a while, and the amount of dust was a bit embarrassing. He’d need to clean his quarters properly before the sparkling arrived.

The file loaded slowly, probably because it was huge. Anything Red Alert recorded tended to be. Trailbreaker wasn’t too surprised when the image finally appeared and showed the rec room in perfect clarity.

First Aid was standing by the dispenser. There were four cubes on the table next to him, which meant that he still had a few cubes to go. It looked quiet, normal. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Until First Aid stiffened, and the volume on the vid file kicked in with a soft hum.

_“No, don’t stop what you’re doing,”_ a voice said, cultured and refined. Trailbreaker snorted. _“We don’t want to give anything away, now do we?”_

Slowly, First Aid kept filling the cube.

_“There’s a good chap,”_ Mirage crooned. _“Now. You won’t mention this to Trailbreaker, understand?”_

That made Trailbreaker a bit uncomfortable. He was 99% certain – well, at least 85% certain – that Mirage wouldn’t do anything to actually harm First Aid, but he didn’t like the idea that First Aid was being made to keep something that might make him uncomfortable from Trailbreaker. He wanted to know what First Aid thought, not have him hide it and worry about it alone until he ran off again. Maybe he should talk to Mirage about that.

Maybe he should talk to First Aid, for that matter.

_“I’m not going to brag about my capabilities and say how quickly I could disable you, how much harm I could cause or how permanent the effects would be,”_ Mirage continued, tone light as if he was holding a casual conversation. _“Suffice it to say that if you pull a stunt like you did again, if you hurt Trailbreaker like that, there will be no place for you to hide. I will find you. You have no idea how much damage you caused, and I will remove you before I let you do anything like that to him again.”_

_“I know I hurt him,”_ First Aid gritted out. He sounded upset. _“I know I did. I’ve apologized so many times.”_

_“And he may have forgiven you,”_ Mirage replied. _“I, however, have not. Do not forget that I saw what was in his spark, First Aid. He fully believed there was something wrong with him, that he was unworthy of a relationship with anyone. He expected us to pity him, scorn him. He has seen a lifetime of that already, and I will not permit any more of it, do you understand?”_

First Aid had stiffened again, head at a strange angle. Trailbreaker stared as he realized that it was probably because Mirage was applying pressure to the side of his neck, where the main energon line was.

_“I said, do you understand? Don’t make me repeat myself, youngling.”_

_“I understand.”_ First Aid sounded like he had gurgled nails. _“And I won’t hurt him again. I won’t. I love him.”_

_“I know you do. We all know you do, for that matter, which is the only reason there hasn’t been more of a fuss over how you treated him.”_ First Aid straightened again, the pressure apparently gone. _“Treat him well. We will be watching.”_

Oh, Trailbreaker clearly needed to have a word with Mirage. He didn’t want them watching. He trusted First Aid. Mirage wasn’t wrong about how Trailbreaker had felt – it was all too eerily accurate, actually – but he also didn’t know what Trailbreaker felt now. And he definitely didn’t know what First Aid felt, not like Trailbreaker did.

Trailbreaker wasn’t worried. Not anymore.

On the screen, First Aid continued filling cubes, clearly in a bigger hurry than before. The time stamp on the vid file showed ten minutes earlier, so he’d soon be back. And he might be more than a little rattled. And feeling more than a little guilty. Trailbreaker wasn’t sure he should let First Aid know he’d seen it all, but he was damn sure he didn’t want First Aid to feel guilty over leaving him. Not anymore. He knew why, now, and he understood.

Maybe Trailbreaker actually had to be a bit sneaky and clever for this one.

The door opened again, and Trailbreaker put the datapad down.

“I got the cubes,” First Aid said, all in a rush. “And I got enough for today and tomorrow, maybe the day after, if you didn’t want to go anywhere. They’ll keep longer than that if you want to try fueling in the rec tomorrow.”

Oh yes, definitely nervous.

Trailbreaker smiled. “Bring me a cube and come over here?”

Predictably, First Aid did. Trailbreaker sat up enough to drink the fuel, and then pulled First Aid down on top of him. It was almost second nature by now to spread his legs to make room for First Aid’s hips, and angle his upper body just right so their chests slid together.

First Aid’s mask retracted, and Trailbreaker kissed him.

“I really am sorry about how I treated you,” First Aid murmured against Trailbreaker’s lips. “I’ll do my best to make up for it.”

“It’s okay.” Pit if Trailbreaker would let him wallow in that right now. Especially because he knew First Aid only brought it back up because Mirage had rattled him. He would have words with Mirage, and soon. “I know, Aid. Don’t think about that right now.” He let his chest plates inch apart, almost as if he was trying to distract from the conversation. Which he was, kind of, just not in the way First Aid probably thought.

No better cure for feeling guilty and upset about hurting someone than seeing in their spark that they were okay, after all.

First Aid made a tiny little needy noise at the sight, and Trailbreaker tugged him down until they were as close as possible. He felt it as First Aid’s chest split apart as well, spark tendrils meeting and pulling towards each other. He couldn’t quite keep back the moan.

The sensations were familiar by now, but the intensity never seemed to abate. Trailbreaker lost himself completely in First Aid, in the words and the thoughts and the feelings. He didn’t know who crested first, or if they did so together, but when the merge ended First Aid was relaxed and happy again, and Trailbreaker was content.

He’d talk to Mirage soon. But for now, First Aid was purring at him and nuzzling his throat cables, and First Aid clearly took a higher priority. Especially since his plating was so smooth and he was still making those happy, sated little kitten meeps and his spike cover was burning against Trailbreaker’s pelvis.

Mirage could wait.


	22. Chapter 22

If it wasn’t for having so little energy that moving at all was a chore, Trailbreaker would have enjoyed himself a lot at this point. He had First Aid there almost all the time, he was waited on constantly, and they interfaced so much that it felt like he was floating in an almost continuous post-overload haze.

So of course it couldn’t last.

He still felt guilty when the alarm went off and he couldn’t help. This time the Decepticons were attacking a power station not too far from the Ark, and there were many enough of them that even First Aid was ordered out.

“We’re going to need Defensor.” Prowl was apologetic. “Megatron has brought three Decepticon combiners. Superion can’t do it alone.”

That was understandable. So Trailbreaker kissed First Aid goodbye and sent him out to meet the others, telling him not to worry about anything other than kicking ‘Con aft. Trailbreaker would be safe.

And he was safe. He was fine.

He’d just forgotten how difficult it would be to stay in his quarters all alone, out of touch with the other Autobots and not being sure what was happening. He tried pinging Blaster to see if he could be let in on the comm chatter, but the response was not encouraging.

::Sorry, mech,:: Blaster replied. ::Prowl says you’re strictly off-duty and any extra stress could cause problems for your systems. So my hands are tied. I’ll ping you as soon as we know which way things go, okay? Blaster out.::

Slag it.

To keep himself distracted, he played with the sparkling. First Aid had discovered that a tap to the plating over the tank would lead to the sparkling tapping back, and though the rhythms never got very complex it was fun. Trailbreaker found himself tapping gently and singing along, enjoying each little response from inside his frame.

Soon enough, though, the sparkling quieted.

“I wish I could recharge as easily as you, kiddo,” Trailbreaker sighed. “You’re not worrying about him, out there fighting ‘Cons. You don’t know anything about it yet.” Hopefully, it would be a long time before his sparkling had to learn anything about fighting Decepticons.

Time passed incredibly slowly. Trailbreaker was in no shape to pace, even though he wanted to, so he was left just shifting restlessly around on the berth and trying to not check his chronometer every few seconds.

He failed, of course.

Finally, _finally_ , Blaster pinged him to let him know that the Decepticons had been routed and the Autobots were headed back to base.

::We took heavy casualties, though,:: Blaster advised. ::No fatalities, but Ratchet and the others will be stuck in medbay for the rest of the day, maybe all night. Best you can do is stay out of the way, mech.::

Slag that.

He wasn’t fit for helping much, but medbay wasn’t the only busy area after battles. And depending on who was on the injured list, there were plenty of mecha needing some quiet company or someone to talk to.

Trailbreaker drained a cube from his backup pile, got to his feet and shuffled to the rec room.

He didn’t have to sit long before he got visitors. Cliffjumper sat tiredly, still dusty from the fight, giving a nod as Mirage primly sat down as well.

“You should be in berth,” Mirage scolded, giving Trailbreaker one of those looks that must have sent a household of servants scurrying way back before the war. “You’re in no fit shape to be up.”

“I can handle sitting still on a chair just fine,” Trailbreaker countered. “What I can’t handle is being cooped up in there anymore and not knowing what’s going on.”

“Yeah, I don’t blame ya.” Cliffjumper sighed. “Having to stay away is the worst. I’d take a fight like today’s over being locked up in medbay any time.”

Cliffjumper would know. He’d been out of action almost as long as Trailbreaker had, and as far as he knew, this was his first fight after he’d been allowed back on active duty. “At least you didn’t get stomped on this time.”

“Just because Warpath pushed me out of the way. Now he’s the one Ratchet and First Aid have to spend all night putting back together.” Cliffjumper drew an angry line in some spilt fuel on the table. “Days like this, I really, really hate the ‘Cons.”

“Seconded.” Mirage drained his cube and stood back up. “I have a debrief to get to. Trailbreaker, don’t overdo it.”

“Yes, Mirage.” Trailbreaker offered a slight smile in response to the sharp look Mirage sent him. “I promise. I’ll sit right here for a while, and when I get tired I’ll go back.”

“Good.”

Cliffjumper grinned as Mirage walked away. “Gained a bunch of nannies, haven’t you?”

“Seems that way. I don’t mind, though. They all just care.”

“Yeah.” Cliffjumper wiped out the half-drawn tank he’d sketched. “They’re good mecha.”

Sitting in the rec room made Trailbreaker feel like part of the Autobots in a way he hadn’t in a while. Sure, he knew they were his friends, he knew – in theory – that he was valued, he knew they cared. But he also hadn’t felt like he was supposed to be among them for a while. Now, he felt integral again. Whether it was drinking in silence with Ironhide, joking back and forth with Sideswipe, or comforting a distraught Fireflight after Hot Spot carried him in and all but deposited him in Trailbreaker’s lap – Trailbreaker was useful again, he had a part to play again, and in all the chaos and upset it felt _good_.

Not good enough to keep him going for long, unfortunately. His frame simply couldn’t keep up with what he wanted these days. When Fireflight was finally calm, he sent him off with Perceptor and shuffled his way slowly back to his own quarters.

The _Ark_ was always quiet after this kind of battle. It was like everyone was too tired to make much noise. He passed Skydive in the hallway, mostly patched up and looking like he might pass out any moment, leaning against the wall as he walked. A moment later Sunstreaker paced up, pulled the baby jet’s arm over his shoulders and half-carried him away. Brawn and Gears were leaning heavily on each other, but Brawn still had enough energy to give Trailbreaker a nod. In the corridor that led to medbay, Groove was stretched out on the floor, fully in recharge. As Trailbreaker passed him, Hot Spot appeared to scoop him up and carry him off.

The Autobots were exhausted. Hopefully the Decepticons were even worse.

Trailbreaker wasn’t too surprised when his quarters were empty. First Aid was probably still in surgery, working on getting Warpath and Bumblebee and Silverbolt and Air Raid and Blades and Optimus Prime back on their feet. Thankfully none of them were in danger of greying, not anymore, but many of them needed intensive surgery still. So he wasn’t surprised First Aid wasn’t there. But he couldn’t deny that he was a bit disappointed.

“Just you and me again, huh?” He patted the plating over his tank and waited until he heard the answering little tap. “Yeah, I know. But he’ll be fine. He’s working himself to the struts, they all are, but he’ll be fine. And he’ll be back here before you know it. We should probably get used to this, you and I, since we plan on keeping him around.”

First Aid would always be working long shifts. He’d have to take night shifts, he’d be called out suddenly, he’d be on back watch whenever they had someone critically injured in the medbay. Dating a medic wasn’t like dating an engineer or even another soldier. That was a given. Trailbreaker wouldn’t say he didn’t mind, but he would say he knew what he was getting into. And First Aid was worth it.

He lay down on the berth gingerly, shifting until he found a comfortable position. “There we go, baby. Let’s recharge for a while, yeah? Maybe he’ll be back when we wake up.”

The sparkling tapped again.

Trailbreaker was pulled from recharge by an override code being entered on his door locks. The door slid open before he had time to react, admitting a Skyfire bent double to fit through the doorway.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted to bring him home.” He bent down and deposited a recharging First Aid on the berth next to Trailbreaker. “It’s better for him to recharge here.”

Trailbreaker nodded and curled around First Aid. “Thanks. Hey, how are the others? How’s Optimus?”

“He will be fine.” The smile on Skyfire’s face was tired but amused. “He’s already complaining about being laid out on a medberth while his Autobots need him. It’s a good thing Ratchet is immune to his pout.” He adjusted First Aid’s arm a little. “The others will all be fine too. Ratchet is finishing up as we speak. Give it a few days, and they’ll all be back on their feet again.”

“That’s good.” Trailbreaker snuggled closer to First Aid’s warm frame. “Give them my best, yeah?”

“I will. Pleasant recharge, Trailbreaker.”

For such a big mech, Skyfire didn’t make a lot of sound. Trailbreaker barely heard him leave.

Of course, that might have been because he was preoccupied watching First Aid.

There were clear marks of battle on his frame. Long scratches where Defensor’s left arm had wrestled with his opponents. Deep pock marks from being shot at – thankfully nothing serious. No dust, since he’d come straight from performing surgery, but plenty of marks and dings and painful-looking wear. His hands were in appalling condition, full of scratches and abrasions and other mecha’s energon.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

Trailbreaker couldn’t do much with what he had in his quarters. Ideally, he’d have loved to find them both an oil pool to soak in, where he could massage First Aid’s hands in the liquid and make sure every cable and piece of micro-plating was perfectly aligned and fitting smoothly. But oil pools were a thing of the past, unfortunately.

But he had cloths, and he had tools, and he had cleanser. Not least, he had patience.

He began with First Aid’s pede. Rubbing a cloth dipped in cleanser over the plating and cables, running his fingers over them to ensure no cables were kinked and no pebbles were caught anywhere. Rubbed out marks and paint transfers. There wasn’t much he could do about the myriad of dents and scratches, not without a full repaint, but he could at least make sure First Aid was comfortable.

Up the legs, across the knees, over the thighs. Steering clear of First Aid’s interfacing panels, because he didn’t want to wake him up and he didn’t want to get distracted. Paying special attention to his abdomen and the gaps of transformation seams, cleaning out gunk and filth from behind the thick plating.

By the time he’d gotten up to First Aid’s shoulders, there was a faint glow in First Aid’s visor.

“Hi,” Trailbreaker whispered. “Give me your hand.”

“What are you doing?” First Aid mumbled. He still sounded exhausted.

“I’m cleaning you up.” Trailbreaker took First Aid’s closest hand and began carefully cleaning out the seams. “Figure you deserve to be spoiled a bit, you’ve been hard at work saving lives.”

One corner of First Aid’s mouth quirked up in a small smile. “You’re the one carrying. I should be taking care of you.”

“You do. Let me take care of you for once.” He massaged First Aid’s palm. “I didn’t mean to wake you. You can go back to recharge if you want.”

“Mmm. Feels too good.” First Aid sighed, a content little sound. “I’m beat, but I’m enjoying this too much.”

“Yeah, okay. If you want to recharge though, go right ahead. I’ll get you clean anyway.” As he worked, the tension was leaving First Aid’s hands. First Aid looked completely blissed out, visor glowing dimly and a faint blush on his cheeks. He was beautiful. Perfect.

And Trailbreaker suddenly felt a need to let him know that.

All of a sudden his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he got a weird tingling at the back of his throat that he had to swallow to get rid of. All his words disappeared, his hands were trembling, his tanks churning –

“Trailbreaker?” First Aid sounded worried. “What’s wrong?”

_Frag, he must have felt my hands shaking._

“Nothing,” Trailbreaker blurted. “I – I love you.”

Well, that was one way to do it.

First Aid stared. Then his smile grew, wider and wider, his visor brightened, and it was a look of such complete adoration and amazement that Trailbreaker felt swallowed up by it.

“I love you too,” First Aid whispered. “Primus, Trailbreaker, I love you so much.”

It felt like there should be a kiss there. So Trailbreaker put the cloth down and leaned in, meeting First Aid halfway.

Neither of them were really up to much, it seemed. The kiss was short, for all that it was chaste and warm and sweet and so full of love Trailbreaker thought he might melt from it.

“I adore you,” First Aid whispered. “I thought about you all day. How you were doing back here, how you were coping with the waiting.”

“I worried about you all day.” Trailbreaker abandoned the cleaning in favor of laying down next to First Aid. He’d been almost done, anyway. “Well, about all the Autobots, but about you specifically. I know there’s not a lot that can take you out when you’re merged as Defensor, but Blaster wouldn’t tell me anything. Which is probably a good thing, when I think about it.” He nuzzled First Aid’s cheek. “I think I would have freaked out more if I’d known exactly what was going on and still couldn’t help out.”

“I’m glad you weren’t there. I would have been crazy with worry if you were in danger.” First Aid giggled tiredly. “Even worse than I was.” He turned enough to cuddle closer, his helm on Trailbreaker’s shoulder and his leg thrown over Trailbreaker’s hips.

They’d have to come up with a solution for future battles, Trailbreaker realized. He couldn’t stay on base with the sparkling forever, he’d need to go back to active duty at some point. What would he do with the sparkling if they were attacked? He couldn’t just leave him alone back on base. And he knew he’d worry endlessly if he had to leave his sparkling behind somewhere.

But that was a problem for another time. Not for when he had a snuggly Protectobot wrapped around him. First Aid seemed to already be in recharge, too, which was probably a good idea.

“We’ll spoil him some more tomorrow,” he whispered, quietly tapping his abdomen.

After a moment, the sparkling tapped back.


	23. Chapter 23

If he had to do a comparison, Trailbreaker thought he might like the last month of his carry a lot more than the first months. Granted, he wasn’t that mobile, he couldn’t transform, he was stuck in his room or in the rec most of the time. But he was happier than he could remember ever being. He was rarely left alone, he had friends he’d never expected having, and most of all, he had First Aid.

First Aid had all but moved in. They were still waiting for the rooms Grapple and Hoist were working on, so it was a tight fit with both of them in the same space, but neither of them minded. Trailbreaker almost thought he preferred it sometimes, the way they were always close enough together that he could feel every vent, every motion First Aid made.

First Aid had stopped apologizing, finally. He still felt guilty, Trailbreaker knew that – you couldn’t lie with your spark – but he accepted what he’d done and they’d moved on. They were good.

(He’d also taken the time to tell Mirage off for that stunt he’d pulled in the rec room a while back. He appreciated his friends looking out for him, but First Aid was there to stay. Mirage, being himself, had just given Trailbreaker a proud smile and patted him on the shoulder. It didn’t really make sense to Trailbreaker, but he figured he’d leave the figuring out Mirage part to Hound.)

First Aid was happy too, he knew. He still spent time with his brothers, and sometimes Trailbreaker would join them for a movie or something, and it was nice to be included like that. But often First Aid would go driving or something with his brothers, and Trailbreaker would hang out with Hound and Mirage or Sideswipe and Sunstreaker or Cliffjumper or Skyfire or Fireflight. He’d even spent an evening playing tactical war games with Prowl, Red Alert and Optimus Prime, which had been downright scary.

Through it all, he was getting excited. And tired. He was past ready to be done with the whole carry process, to get the sparkling out and get to know him. To get his frame back. And with just a few weeks to go, time just couldn’t go fast enough.

He wasn’t the only one excited and full of anticipation. First Aid had been reading everything he could about delivering sparklings, even if he’d read it twice before. Optimus smiled at Trailbreaker every time he saw him, and he couldn’t resist resting a hand over Trailbreaker’s abdomen whenever he was allowed. Which was often, because it was Optimus. Bluestreak and Sunstreaker were both intensely focused on the sparkling, too, but where Bluestreak was all excited babble and predictions, Sunstreaker was quiet and staring until he’d suddenly ask a question that was more insightful than Trailbreaker had expected.

The _Ark_ was all excitement these days. Trailbreaker suspected that if a Decepticon spy got in, he wouldn’t know what to make of it.

So it was weird to one day see First Aid almost gloomy as he came back to their shared quarters. He was loaded down with fuel and looked sadder than Trailbreaker had seen him in a while. He hid it fast, putting on his usual cheerful demeanor, but it wasn’t fast enough.

“What’s wrong?” Trailbreaker stood slowly, taking the cubes out of First Aid’s hands so he could empty his subspace as well.

“Nothing’s wrong,” First Aid replied, way too brightly. Something was definitely wrong.

Well, at least he hadn’t run away this time.

“Something is wrong,” Trailbreaker said, a bit more firmly this time. He pulled First Aid close and nuzzled his cheek. “Want to tell me, or should I keep worrying about it?” It was a low blow, he knew that, but it was also brutally honest. If First Aid didn’t tell him, he would definitely be worrying about it until he could figure it out, and neither one of them wanted the insecurity that would bring.

First Aid sighed and sat down, tugging at Trailbreaker until he was seated as well. “It’s nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I just… heard something.”

“What did you hear?” It couldn’t be too bad, or First Aid would be angry instead of upset, but Trailbreaker didn’t like seeing First Aid upset either. Not if he could fix it. “Do I need to sic Mirage on someone?”

First Aid giggled, and the sound was a relief. “No, Primus forbid. No one’s out of line, not really. It’s just – well.” He leaned into Trailbreaker. “Brawn has a betting pool.”

The _Ark_ was rife with betting pools, Trailbreaker knew. Most of them were run by Smokescreen, but Sideswipe, Brawn and even Beachcomber had a few as well. Trailbreaker even had personal stakes in a few of them. “Yeah? What’s this one about? My due date again?” That one was the most popular one at the moment, closely followed by the one on how long it would take before either Skyfire or Optimus was carrying, and who would bond first of Hound and Mirage and Bluestreak and Wheeljack. Trailbreaker and First Aid weren’t even in that one, probably because most mecha either didn’t think they could bond since First Aid was part of a gestalt or thought it was a done deal already.

“No.” First Aid shook his head. “On the identity of the sire.”

“Oh.” That wasn’t a new question either, though he was surprised it had turned into a betting pool. It wasn’t like they would ever be given an answer they could be satisfied with. Unless… “Were they close to the truth?”

First Aid snorted. “Not even remotely. For some reason Hound’s the lead candidate, closely followed by Mirage. I’m in there too, and Prowl, a few others. Smokescreen’s not even mentioned.”

Well, that was good then. Though it didn’t explain why First Aid was upset.

_I should probably just ask._

“Why are you upset about it, then? If it’s harmless enough?”

“It’s not the betting pool.” First Aid snuggled closer, absently tapping Trailbreaker’s abdomen and listening to the return taps. “I don’t mind that. I don’t even mind what they’re saying, not really. But I… It doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about it.”

“It clearly matters.” Trailbreaker couldn’t pull First Aid into his lap if he’d tried, not with all his strength sapped by the carrying and First Aid being much heavier than him anyway, but with a nudge and a tug First Aid moved on his own. “It’s upset you, so it matters.”

“It’s just,” First Aid mumbled, face almost hidden against Trailbreaker’s chest. “I want it to be true.”

Trailbreaker waited for a moment to see if First Aid wanted to continue talking, because what he said hadn’t made much sense, but he was quiet.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he dragged information out of First Aid. “Want what to be true, Aid?”

“That it’s me.” First Aid sighed again. “That I’m the sire to your sparkling.”

Oh.

_Oh._

“But you are,” Trailbreaker said slowly.

“What?” First Aid lifted his head enough to stare at him.

“You are his sire. You’ve been his sire for months.” Trailbreaker touched First Aid’s cheek, rubbed his thumb against the soft surface under the visor’s edge. “Didn’t you know that?”

For a long moment, First Aid didn’t say anything. His optics were wide and bright behind his visor. “You mean that,” he whispered finally.

“Of course I mean it.” Trailbreaker shifted a bit until he could lay down and First Aid rested against his chest. “You may not have been there for his creation, but you’re his sire, First Aid. You’re the best sire he could ever ask for.”

First Aid made this noise that was practically a squeal and hid his face against Trailbreaker’s windscreen. It was hard to tell if it was a happy noise or not, but a slight nudge showed that First Aid was grinning from audial to audial, optics suspiciously bright, so that was probably alright then.

First Aid moved, maneuvering himself up Trailbreaker’s body until they were face to face. “I love you so slagging much,” he said earnestly, optics still wide and bright with excitement. “And I’m going to spoil you both rotten. I’m going to be the best sire ever, I promise.”

“I know.” First Aid really was ridiculously adorable. Trailbreaker couldn’t resist leaning up, just a bit, waiting just out of reach, waiting until First Aid took the hint and leaned down.

Primus, he’d never ever get tired of kissing First Aid.

“I guess this means you want me around for a while.” And First Aid sounded so happy saying that, Trailbreaker couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, you’re very useful.”

First Aid’s fingers slid down Trailbreaker’s side. “Oh, really? I’m useful?” He clambered over to place himself between Trailbreaker’s legs. “Nothing else?”

Trailbreaker’s laughter turned into a groan as First Aid cupped his suddenly warm panel. “Oh slag, Aid.”

First Aid giggled. “Apparently there is something else.”

“Prove it,” Trailbreaker replied. He pulled First Aid down into another kiss and opened his panel. “Shut up and frag me.”

He knew he was getting better. It was easier to move, easier to walk. But he also knew he was getting heavier. He could practically feel the sparkling as a heavy weight low in his middle, messing with his balance and making his gait more of a waddle. He felt a bit ridiculous, to be honest, and preferred to stay seated instead of walking around. It meant he got stiff and sore, but First Aid had magic hands, and at least could sit down without looking like a fool. The other day Hound had compared him to a duck, for Primus’ sake. Trailbreaker had to agree that it was apt comparison, but it was far from a flattering one, and he was looking forward to walking normally again.

Of course, Ratchet snorting at him as he walked in didn’t help any.

“You walk like you’re about to pop.” Ratchet patted the medberth. “Can you still get up on this?”

“I’m heavy, not useless.” Of course, he still had to slide on, not just sit down normally like he would have before. “It can’t be too much longer, can it?”

“The way you’re moving?” Ratchet grinned. “I’d say we’re talking days rather than weeks. Now lie down and let me work.”

“First Aid isn’t here yet.” Trailbreaker really wanted First Aid to be a part of as much of this as possible. He was so enthusiastic about it, which never failed to charm Trailbreaker, which tended to lead to rather enthusiastic fragging as soon as they got back to their quarters. That was one thing about carrying Trailbreaker was going to miss. He knew First Aid would stick around, but they’d never be compulsively fragging like this again.

Unless they conceived another sparkling. Which wasn’t something he wanted to think about just yet.

“He can read the scans as well as I can when he gets here. Now stay still.” Ratchet began the process of hooking him up to the monitors.

It was all familiar by now. And this part was kind of boring. So Trailbreaker took the chance to dim his optics and doze a bit. He was vaguely aware of the beeps and clicks and tingles of the scans as Ratchet worked, but he didn’t online his optics until a warm hand closed on his.

“Hey,” First Aid murmured. “You can recharge some more, you know.”

“I know. Don’t need to.” He glanced at Ratchet. “I’d much rather know how we’re doing.”

“You’re both fine, unsurprisingly enough. Just like last week.” Ratchet turned one of the monitors, letting them both see the squiggly lines that Trailbreaker was learning to interpret. “Levels good across the board. You’d be jogging if the sparkling wasn’t getting in the way.”

“How soon will he be here? Can we see him?” First Aid was eager to, Trailbreaker knew that much. He loved watching the images they got too, but First Aid seemed to be completely captivated. Maybe it was because he couldn’t feel the sparkling like Trailbreaker could.

“Sure.” Ratchet was already passing the imaging wand over Trailbreaker’s abdomen in broad sweeps. “Look up.”

Trailbreaker watched as the dots on the screen Ratchet had indicated coalesced into a familiar image. The sparkling was almost chubby now, little arms and legs fully formed, optics bright and blinking. There weren’t many distinguishing features on him yet, but there seemed to be some form of crest surrounding his face.

“He’s so beautiful,” First Aid breathed. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

“Won’t be long now.” Ratchet pointed at something on the screen. “His fuel cord’s detaching, see? I’d guess maybe a few more days.” He smiled. “You’d both better be prepared to come down here again soon.”

It didn’t seem real. Judging by the shine in First Aid’s visor, Ratchet probably wasn’t exaggerating, but Trailbreaker couldn’t quite believe it. “A few more days? Really?”

“Maybe even tomorrow.” Ratchet changed the angle of the wand. “Move over, bitlet, let me see that connection.”

Trailbreaker tapped the plating over the top of the gestation tank. Instantly, the sparkling’s optics brightened on the screen and he turned, little legs kicking out to answer the tap.

“Well, look at that.” Ratchet chuckled. “Social little guy. He’s a healthy one. And – yep, that connector’s detaching. It’s over halfway loose already. It could still take a few days, but I’m going to go ahead and prep everything tonight just in case. Sparklings have a tendency to show up when it’s most inconvenient, so I’m fully expecting to be pulled from recharge by this little bit. Do you have any questions about the emergence process?”

Trailbreaker shook his head. First Aid had read everything he could get his hands on, which meant that Trailbreaker had listened to facts and explanations about that particular part of this for weeks already. He knew what to expect, at least theoretically.

From inside him, the sparkling tapped again. He was using his legs, Trailbreaker saw, kicking into whatever part of Trailbreaker he was closest to. He didn’t seem to be aiming, but there was purpose in the movement.

“That was him initiating it,” First Aid giggled. “You ready to come out soon, sweetling? We can’t wait to meet you.”

“Have you thought of a designation yet?” Ratchet asked as he started disconnecting. He’d left the imaging wand magnetized to Trailbreaker’s plating, so they could watch the sparkling on the screen.

“I’ve been playing with a few things,” Trailbreaker admitted. “Nothing I’m ready to come out with yet, though. I want to meet him first.”

“Next week, then. You hear that, bitlet?” Ratchet tapped Trailbreaker’s abdomen. “Next week, I want to hear your name.”

Inside Trailbreaker, the sparkling tapped back, little legs kicking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's that? *gasp* A final chapter count? Yes, yes it is! Only three more chapters to go, readers, unless Trailbreaker and First Aid and the sparkling pull a fast one on me :D  
> Also! This fic is now part one of a series, and part two will begin posting fairly soon after the last chapter to this has been posted. I haven't decided yet if it'll be a weekly thing or a daily thing, og something in between. The sequel will have short chapters, each with a scene from this little family's future, and will tie up a few loose threads :D I'm already working on it and loving it, so subscribe to the series to make sure you don't miss it!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been so excited to post this one :D

It was early. Trailbreaker didn’t know what had brought him out of recharge, but he was suddenly wide awake. None of the sluggishness he’d experienced when waking up recently, no processor lag. Just instant alertness.

His tanks were low, but not enough to warrant this. Still, he might as well fuel since he was awake anyway.

Moving woke First Aid, who’d somehow managed to bring both arms and both legs around Trailbreaker’s frame until he was clinging on like one of those sea-creatures that fascinated Hound so much. He didn’t snap out of recharge the way Trailbreaker had – his visor brightened slowly, along with the smile on his face, and he tightened his hold and leaned in over Trailbreaker’s abdomen.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured. “It’s your sire.” He sounded so ridiculously happy saying that. “You waking up your carrier?”

The sparkling tapped back, and Trailbreaker twitched. That had actually been uncomfortable.

First Aid noticed, of course. He was so attuned to Trailbreaker these days, Trailbreaker could barely vent without First Aid noticing. “Trailbreaker?”

The sparkling tapped again, making Trailbreaker wince. “I think he’s hitting something sensitive.”

“There’s nothing sensitive in there. Unless…” First Aid sat up and took Trailbreaker’s arm, sliding the cover to his medical port aside and connecting. “We’d need to scan to be sure, but… Yeah.” He smiled widely. “Let’s get to medbay.”

“What? But I don’t feel anything.” That didn’t make any sense. Granted, Ratchet had said within a couple of days, but Trailbreaker didn’t feel any different.

“Here.” First Aid took his hand, placed it over the gestation tank. “Feel how warm the plating is? And if you listen, you can hear it.”

The plating was almost hot, actually. And when Trailbreaker focused, he could hear a faint ticking sound he didn’t recognize.

“That’s the tank seal giving way. It’s early yet, but we might as well get down there.” First Aid stood up, still with that happy look on his face. “Up you get, love.”

“Get me a cube or two, and I’ll get up.” It still took a little time to shuffle his frame off the berth, and standing was a slow affair, but he managed. And now it was even more apparent that something was changing inside him. He felt front-heavy, and standing straight was a lot harder than usual.

“Might have to lean on you,” he admitted. “Walking is going to be a bit difficult.”

First Aid offered his arm and shoulder and handed him a cube. “I’ve pinged Ratchet. He’s waiting for us.”

The medbay had never been this far away. Trailbreaker shuffled along, pausing every now and then when the sparkling hit something sore inside him. His HUD had a new notification, a bar called ‘Emergence protocol’, and though it was still going slowly Trailbreaker could see it ticking along. It was just short of a third of the way done when they walked into medbay proper.

Ratchet was waiting for them in the same room Trailbreaker had stayed in before. The berth was prepped and ready, and next to it was a small transparent open box on a tall wheeled frame. There was a green mesh blanket inside.

“He’s finally ready, huh?” There was a new look on Ratchet’s face – if Trailbreaker had to put a word to it he’d say he looked eager, which wasn’t something Trailbreaker had ever seen before. “Come on then, up you get. Seated or on all fours will be best, if you can manage.”

On all fours wasn’t a position Trailbreaker had managed for a while. Seated would have to do. First Aid helped him get comfortable, as much as possible, handing him another cube as soon as he was seated. “Drink this. Do you want a blanket or something?”

“I’m good.” As good as he could be with his insides twinging and clicking. It felt like the sparkling was turning somersaults in there, and every time he touched the walls of the tank it stung. It wasn’t full-blown pain, and Trailbreaker had definitely had worse, but it was enough to make him want to hunch over. The bar on his HUD was about halfway done. “Besides, it’ll get soiled.”

Ratchet snorted. “Like nothing else does around here. If you need a blanket, you get a blanket. But judging from the temperature he’s building in there, you won’t need it until he’s out.” He nudged Trailbreaker back a bit to get to his abdomen, imaging wand already at the ready. “Good,” Ratchet said after a moment. “He’s transforming for emergence. What does your HUD status say?”

“The emergence bar is at 58%,” Trailbreaker replied. “And I’m getting kind of nervous.” He touched the warm plating again, trying not to get in Ratchet’s way. He could feel the faint vibrations and ticking as the tank seal gave way. “What if I’m no good at this? What if I frag it up somehow?”

“You told me what Sparkplug said.” First Aid slid in behind him on the berth and nuzzled his cheek. “When you feel overwhelmed, you ask for help. And no one knows how to do this in advance.”

“You’ll have plenty of mecha around who’ll want to help out,” Ratchet commented. “It’ll be good practice for some of them.”

Trailbreaker chuckled. “I’m damn sure both of you know something I don’t about that. Prowl does, too. What do I have to do to get you to spill it?”

“Telling you would be too simple.” Ratchet winked. “Of course, you could guess. Since you’re stuck here for a while, anyway.”

_Guessing games, huh? I can work with that._

“There’s at least one other Autobot who’s sparked.” He was fairly sure of this one.

Ratchet didn’t reply. But he smiled, and First Aid giggled, which was as good as if either of them had confirmed it out loud.

“That sparkling is still a few months off, so Grapple and Hoist has time to finish the new family quarters.”

Ratchet shrugged with one shoulder. “Yes and no. Some rooms will be ready on time. Some mecha will have to wait.”

Trailbreaker stared at him. “That implies that there’s more than one sparkling aside from mine.”

“You didn’t think he’d be the only sparkling for long, did you?” Ratchet busied himself checking connections and wires that looked perfectly fine to Trailbreaker’s optics. The bar on his HUD ticked past 70%.

“Who?” They probably wouldn’t answer him on this one, but it was worth a shot. If they didn’t say anything, he would try to put the clues together on his own.

Surprisingly enough, though, Ratchet smiled. It was a different expression than earlier, more fond than wry. “I’m only sharing this with you because I got their permission to tell you. You’re to keep quiet about it, okay? The only reason we’re even sharing the information is because it’s a good idea for the families to know about each other so they can work together to mind the sparklings, and they all know about you already.”

All?

How many were they actually talking about here?

_Emergence protocol: 80% complete._

Ratchet counted off on his fingers. “In two months or so, Wheeljack’s having a sparkling.”

That was less surprising than it probably should have been. All those pointed questions suddenly made sense.

“Bluestreak’s over the moon about it,” First Aid added. “He’s been borrowing all those sparkling files off me.”

“Right.” Ratchet nodded, raising another finger. “About five months after that, we’ll most likely have a baby shuttle on our hands. Or a grounder. Or maybe even both, it’s not clear yet.”

“Skyfire and Optimus,” Trailbreaker realized. “Primus.” That was one bet he wasn’t going to win. He’d really thought they’d hold off a bit.

“That’s almost what I said,” Ratchet agreed. “I told Optimus to wait, but he keeps claiming this ‘feels right’ and ‘the Matrix approves’.” He didn’t raise his hands, but Trailbreaker could practically see the air quotes.

First Aid kissed Trailbreaker’s cheek. “And then, in nine months, I’ll have to go on duty as chief medic for a while. Ratchet will be busy.”

Trailbreaker stared at Ratchet, who was somehow managing to look both embarrassed and smug at the same time. “You don’t waste any time, do you.”

“I’m not young anymore.” Ratchet rested one hand over his side. “And I’ve actually got mecha in my life now who care about me, who love me for who I am. I never thought I would have that. So yeah, I jumped at the chance.” He touched a few spots on Trailbreaker’s abdomen. “Looks like you’re getting close.”

That was a blatant change of subject, but Trailbreaker would allow it. Besides, the bar on his HUD was nearly all green now. “96%. I think so.”

“Good. Now, this shouldn’t hurt, though it may be a bit uncomfortable.” Ratchet pushed Trailbreaker back into First Aid’s arms. “Your plating will split apart along this seam,” he drew a line over the hottest part of Trailbreaker’s abdomen, “and then the seal on the tank will give way. There will be a bit of fluid before the tank folds open and the sparkling can emerge.”

“I know.” He’d gone over this part with First Aid several times. “I know how it works, Ratchet.”

“Good.” Ratchet nodded at Trailbreaker’s front, where a faint crack was widening. “Because here he comes.”

_Emergence protocol: 100% complete. Systems ready._

Trailbreaker stared in fascination as his abdomen split open. There was pressure from inside, but it wasn’t painful. First Aid was leaning over his shoulder and muttering something in medical-ese.

“Full dilation,” Ratchet agreed, nodding. “The tank seal is visible. It’s almost completely detached.”

Trailbreaker didn’t know what they were talking about, and he couldn’t look inside himself to see what Ratchet saw. But he could _feel_.

The pressure inside was increasing. The sparkling was still, but Trailbreaker still felt front-heavy, like all the extra mass he’d been carrying around for the last months had shifted to rest right under his plating. Instinctually, he leaned forward a bit.

With a pop, something disintegrated and flew out of him, dropping into Ratchet’s waiting hands. Then there was a rush of fluids, soaking both Trailbreaker and the berth beneath him.

And then…

Then, there was a small, glistening pod, slipping slowly from inside Trailbreaker.

“Catch him, Trailbreaker.” Ratchet’s voice was soft, almost awed. “Catch your sparkling.”

Trailbreaker’s hands were trembling. “What if I drop him?” What if his first act as a parent was to drop his newly emerged sparkling to the floor?

But then First Aid’s hands were there on his, steadying them. First Aid wasn’t trembling. “You won’t, love. You got this.”

The pod was slippery and almost soft in his hands. It was small enough that he could hold it easily, cradling it as securely as he could, careful not to hold too tight. The matte silver of it glistened in the overhead lights, and Trailbreaker was captivated.

Soon the pod slipped the last of the way out. Ratchet held out a soft mesh. “Here, dry him off. He should come out of the emergence transformation with a bit of convincing.”

First Aid took the cloth and ran it in smooth circles over the surface of the pod. “Come on out, baby. We want to meet you.”

There was a tiny click, and then another, and then the surface of the pod began cracking up. One bit folded back into a tiny leg, another into a helm, and then…

Trailbreaker melted.

In his hands there was a perfectly formed sparkling. Bright blue optics blinked up at him, tiny cheeks pudgy and soft-looking, arms and legs kicking and twitching.

He was absolutely beautiful.

“Hi,” Trailbreaker breathed. “Hi, Ambulon.”

In his hands, the sparkling clicked and beeped, little helm nudging Trailbreaker’s fingers.

“Ambulon, huh? Welcome to the world, Ambulon.” Ratchet grinned. “Congratulations, you two. Aid, want to do the check-up?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I do.” First Aid shifted a bit, and his index fingers transformed into the smallest tools Trailbreaker had ever seen. “Come on, baby. Trailbreaker, flatten your hands a bit for me? I won’t let him roll off, I promise.”

As if Trailbreaker had ever thought First Aid would let anything like that happen to their sparkling. He opened his hands, so the sparkling was laying on a flat surface instead of curled up in his palms.

He clearly didn’t like that. The little face scrunched up immediately, and he let out a sharp wail. Trailbreaker fought the urge to close his hands again instantly.

“I know, I know.” First Aid’s voice was apologetic. “You’re cold, baby. But this won’t take long.” Carefully, he stretched out first one leg, and then the other, manipulating the joints. “Full range of motion in both legs, that’s so good, baby. Yeah, I know, it’s no fun. Now your arms – there, that’s good, five fingers on each hand and everything working as it should. Optic brightness is good, and the clarity, and you focus well, don’t you? Ambulon.” The name was almost a purr. “Now I’m going to turn you around – yes, I know, baby, it’s horrible. I’m almost done. The pod shell’s completely retracted into your plating, which it’s supposed to, and soon the nanites and minerals in the shell will help you grow, won’t they? You don’t have any kibble yet, but these little nubs here might well turn into wheel mounts.” He turned the sparkling back around, and the disgruntled look on the small face had Trailbreaker chuckling.

“There’s a crest around your face,” First Aid said, touching the soft points of it carefully. “I bet that’ll look real nice when you grow a bit.” He sat back, and Trailbreaker obeyed the impulse to curl his hands around the sparkling again to keep him safe. “He’s in the green, Ratchet.”

“Yeah, he is. Scans indicate a healthy weight and mass, too.” He handed First Aid another mesh blanket. “Trailbreaker, are your feeding routines active?”

“Yeah.” Trailbreaker turned his head enough to nuzzle First Aid’s cheek. “Aid made sure of that. You think he’s hungry?”

“I think he’ll let you know when he’s hungry, and that it’s good to be ready when that time comes,” Ratchet replied wryly. “He will get loud, most likely.”

“We both have active feeding routines,” First Aid said. His focus was on the sparkling, swaddling him carefully in the blanket. “I wondered if more mecha should have them activated, just in case.”

“I’ve been thinking the same. It’s something to consider in the coming months, that’s for sure.” Ratchet’s hand rested almost absentmindedly over his own side before he straightened, all business again. “Well, this was as textbook as an emergence can get. I’ll leave you two – three, sorry – alone, so you can get to know him. Anyone you want me to notify?”

Trailbreaker shook his head, but he actually wasn’t sure. “Aid, your brothers?”

“They know.” First Aid smiled down at the sparkling. “I’ve asked them to keep it quiet, for now. We’ll announce it at our own pace, I think.”

“Sounds good.” Ratchet put a pair of energon cubes on the side table. “Don’t leave medbay yet, Trailbreaker. I’ll want to check both you and Ambulon over before you do. Your plating’s closed back up already, but I need to make sure the gestation tank is sealing up as it should.”

“Not going anywhere, are we, Ambulon?” Trailbreaker’s thumbs stroked the sparkling’s tiny tummy. “Not yet. Our quarters aren’t quite ready for you, anyway, though I suspect they will be by the time we’re ready to go.”

First Aid laughed. “Yeah, my brothers are on it. Blades has tried his best to be secretive, but he’s just not very good at it. Hot Spot’s promised it’s good, though. I think we’ll be happy with whatever the result is.”

Ratchet nodded. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Ping me if you need anything.”

Trailbreaker barely noticed the door close. He was entranced by the tiny mechling in his hands.

“Ambulon?” First Aid said softly.

Trailbreaker shrugged awkwardly. “I know I should have checked it with you first. It just… seemed appropriate. I got the idea from something Sparkplug said a few weeks back – that there was no need for breaking trails when I was just ambulating around like that. I liked the sound of it.”

“You don’t have to check anything with me.” First Aid’s voice was still soft and incredibly fond. “He’s your sparkling.”

“Our sparkling,” Trailbreaker corrected.

“Our sparkling,” First Aid agreed, a faint blush on his cheeks. “Anyway, Ambulon suits him. Did you know that it’s the same root as the word ‘ambulance’?”

“That’s appropriate. A bit of you, and a bit of me.” Trailbreaker really liked that. He liked that Ambulon was a mix of both of them, both in frame and in name.

“A bit of you and a bit of me.” First Aid touched Ambulon’s helm oh so carefully. The sparkling was looking at the red finger with something close to curiosity. “Primus, Trailbreaker, he’s so beautiful. Look what you made.”

“Enough with the you.” Trailbreaker leaned back into First Aid’s frame and lifted Ambulon up to rest against both of them. “He’s ours, Aid. We made him. I could never have done this without you.” He turned his head enough to catch First Aid’s mouth. “I love you.”

The kiss was interrupted by a sharp whistle. Trailbreaker chuckled and look down at a suddenly squirming and very impatient Ambulon. “I think someone’s hungry. What do you say, baby? Should we see if we can figure this feeding thing out?”

First Aid reached over and released the panel on the inside of Trailbreaker’s wrist. “I think we can figure it out together.”

That sounded good, Trailbreaker realized as Ambulon latched on to the small nub at the end of the feeding line.

That sounded really good.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fluff, have some sads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: references to child death. It's all ancient history, but the retelling is painful for everyone involved.
> 
> Be mindful of this one, readers, this is not nice and fluffy. I actually managed to trigger myself with this one. If you want to avoid the trauma and resulting PTSD reactions and descriptions, skip ahead from "Whatever he'd expected, this wasn't it" to "Trailbreaker had no words". There's a recap in the end notes if you need it.

It was strange how fast Ambulon took up space, both physically and emotionally. He was only a few days old, and already Trailbreaker couldn’t imagine life without him. It was like Trailbreaker’s priority trees had all suddenly rearranged themselves, and Ambulon was at the top of each and every one of them. Such a tiny being to hold so much of Trailbreaker’s spark.

Such a tiny being to take up so much physical space, too. Ambulon might be small, but their quarters now held a bassinet and a small bathtub and a wash station and a cabinet for all the gadgets and things that they didn’t want the sparkling to get hold of. There was a stack of soft meshes and a collapsible play pen and a pile of toys that Ambulon wasn’t old enough to play with yet, and a large thick blanket that was almost a pad for him to lie on whenever either of them had to put him down, which wasn’t often. And that was all just courtesy of the Protectobots and Hound and Mirage. Trailbreaker kind of dreaded the amounts of small gifts and presents that would make their appearance once they took Ambulon out in public to show him off. So far they’d been either in medbay or in their quarters, and they’d traded off on energon runs and breaks so both of them got to have some time with other mecha.

Maybe it was time to change that a bit.

“What do you think about tomorrow?” Trailbreaker asked, optics locked at where Ambulon was fueling contentedly in First Aid’s arms.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Ambulon’s little hands were opening and closing, opening and closing, and his optics were half-dimmed. Trailbreaker could stare at him forever. “I was thinking maybe we could take him out to meet people. Maybe go visit your brothers or something.”

“They’d like that. And he’s fit and healthy, there’s no reason to wait if you feel comfortable with bringing him with us.” He was looking at Ambulon with incredible fondness as the sparkling’s optics dimmed completely and the feeding nub fell from his slack mouth. “If you want, I can go make arrangements with them, and you and he can both take a nap? And I can bring some fuel back for us.”

“It’s your turn,” Trailbreaker agreed. “I could do with a doze. Stay out as long as you like.” He didn’t fear that First Aid wouldn’t come back anymore.

“Might be gone a little while then. Blades had a game he wanted me to try.” First Aid put Ambulon down in his bassinet, tucking a blanket around him. Once his hands were free, he touched Trailbreaker’s chin to tilt his head up and kissed him. It wasn’t as ravenous as it would have been a week or two ago, but there was a sweetness to it that Trailbreaker adored. “Love you, ‘Breaker. Have a nice nap.”

“Say hi to your brothers.” Trailbreaker was still grateful that they’d let First Aid move in with him, and for the way they’d set up the room for Ambulon. The Protectobots were extended family, and he was looking forward to getting to know them all better.

Napping was never hard these days. Ambulon woke several times a night for feeding, and even though they switched off on feeding him Trailbreaker always woke up when Ambulon made a noise. So interrupted recharge was the new norm, and they were both getting used to simply recharging when they could. Trailbreaker knew he’d be in recharge as soon as he lay down.

He didn’t get the chance to. A few moments after First Aid had left there was a ping at the door. It was unexpected, since they’d put the word out that they needed some time alone and weren’t to be disturbed, on threat of Ratchet.

The identity of the visitor was even more of a surprise. But maybe it was about time they talked.

He opened the door.

“Hi,” Smokescreen said quietly. “I wondered if we could talk.”

As expected. Though Trailbreaker couldn’t stop the cold fear that gripped his spark. There was a lot of damage Smokescreen could do if he suddenly decided he wanted back in Ambulon’s life.

Still, he stepped aside. “Yeah. Come in, but be a bit quiet? Amb’s sleeping.”

Smokescreen nodded, and there was something like gratitude in his expression as he walked in. “Amb?” His voice was low enough to not wake the sparkling, and he stood close to the wall instead of next to the bassinet. Trailbreaker was almost relieved at that.

“Ambulon,” he replied.

“I like it.” Smokescreen grinned, his usual casual grin, but it didn’t quite reach his optics. “It’s a good blend of the two of you.” He leaned a little closer, staring at the sparkling. “His colors are coming in.”

“Yeah.” They’d noticed that the day before. Within a few days, Ambulon wouldn’t be sparkling-grey anymore.

“Red and white,” Smokescreen mused. “He takes after First Aid.”

“Mostly,” Trailbreaker agreed. “His chevron’s looking to be yellow or gold, though. So there’s a hint of you in there.” Might as well address that particular elephant in the room already.

“Oh. Yeah, I see that.” Smokescreen turned his focus to Trailbreaker. “I want you to know, I’m not going to interrupt anything. I’m not going to demand to be part of his life, or to mess things up for you and First Aid.”

“Um. Thanks,” Trailbreaker said lamely. That was good to know, but it didn’t explain why Smokescreen was here. “So… What then?”

Smokescreen sighed. He was looking at Ambulon again. “I came to apologize for the way I treated you. And to explain, if you’d let me. So you know where I’m coming from.”

This felt like it could be a long talk. Trailbreaker sat down on the berth and motioned towards the small stool. “I appreciate the apology. But you don’t have to explain.”

Smokescreen was shaking his head before Trailbreaker had even finished speaking. “I kind of do. Because I might react to him in a way that seems off, and I don’t want you to draw the wrong conclusions.” He didn’t sit down. Maybe it was too difficult to sit still while talking. Smokescreen was showing a remarkable lack of cool already.

“Okay then.” Trailbreaker would simply wait for Smokescreen to talk. If there was anything he’d learnt over the last months, it was patience.

Smokescreen paced a few steps, as much as the size of the room would let him. It reminded Trailbreaker of that day all those months ago when he’d told Smokescreen he was carrying.

“Here’s the thing,” Smokescreen said suddenly. “I had sparklings. Before. Well, sort of, anyway.”

Trailbreaker stared. Whatever he’d expected, this wasn’t it.

“It was just after everything really went to Pit,” Smokescreen continued. “The Decepticons had bombed Praxus, they’d taken over the connecting cities, there was nowhere safe to hide. I was making my way through what had become no mech’s land, surviving on what I could find and what I’d managed to escape with, trying to get to Iacon and the Autobots. There were many others like me, running from bombed building to bombed building and sneaking through the wreckage, sometimes giving up and falling and becoming roadblocks or shelters for those of us who were still strong enough to move.

That’s where I found them. Near one of those roadblocks that used to be a mech.”

Smokescreen’s optics were gazing into the middle distance. Trailbreaker could already tell that this wouldn’t be a happy story. He fought the urge to scoop up Ambulon and hold him close, make sure he was safe.

“There were two of them.” Smokescreen sounded almost haggard. “Neither one old enough to use words, both of them clicking and whistling. One yellow, looked to be some kind of speedster frame, the other a blue helo. They didn’t look the same, but they were both there, cradled in a dead mech’s arms.” Smokescreen dropped to the stool like his legs wouldn’t carry him. “I couldn’t leave them there.”

Trailbreaker shook his head slowly. He was afraid to speak out loud, to break whatever trance Smokescreen seemed to have fallen into. If he interrupted Smokescreen now, he might never speak of this again.

“I didn’t know their names, so I called them Spinner and Fasttrack. I found a piece of mesh and some cabling and made a sling of sorts to carry them, so I could keep my arms free. They seemed to enjoy the closeness, so I kept them on my chest as much as I could.” He got up and paced again. “There were Decepticons patrolling the area every day, seekers and ground patrols and every now and then a heavier flier. Getting through with two small sparklings wasn’t easy. I had to use everything I knew, every trick of the book, to survive. Sometimes I hid in the dark for days at a time.”

Trailbreaker could almost see it. He remembered those days, though he’d already enlisted back then.

“Thing was,” Smokescreen said, and he chuckled hollowly. “Thing was, they were so young. Too young to fuel on their own. And I didn’t have my feeding routines activated. I tried to do it myself, but I didn’t know how, and I couldn’t find the code string.”

Oh. Oh, no.

“I tried to feed them with the fuel I had,” Smokescreen continued, voice a dull monotone. “With my last few actual cubes. But they couldn’t process it, they purged it all up. And they were clicking and crying so desperately all the time, it took more and more to keep us hidden. In the end, I tried to slice my own lines and fuel them that way – it wasn’t processed energon, it wasn’t what they needed, but it was better than the slag I was reduced to fueling on at that point. Better they drink from me than be forced to take in fuel siphoned from vehicles and leaky pipes and dead mecha. But it didn’t work.”

Trailbreaker’s hands were shaking. Smokescreen seemed to be curling in on himself.

“They got more desperate. They never recharged much, one of them was always awake, and they were constantly begging me in their little clicks and whimpers for something, anything, to fill their tanks with. I fought my way forward, thinking if I could only get to Iacon, if I could only get to the Autobots, they’d be safe. If I could only move a little bit faster, they’d be okay. The Autobots would have fuel for them, they’d have carriers who could help, the bitlets would be safe.”

He stared down at his hands, quiet for a moment, before speaking again. “I was too late. I arrived in Iacon with two dead sparklings in a sling.”

Trailbreaker couldn’t vent. It was a good thing he hadn’t picked up Ambulon, because he would have held him hard enough to wake him up.

“They starved,” Smokescreen whispered. “They starved to death. I couldn’t keep them alive.”

“I’m so sorry,” Trailbreaker managed. Even to him, the words felt hollow. They weren’t enough, they would never be enough.

Smokescreen continued as if he hadn’t heard him. “There were so many orphans back then. I don’t know what possessed me to do it. Maybe I felt like I needed closure or something. But as soon as the medics cleared me, I visited one of the orphanages. I went to the room where they kept the very young sparklings, the same ages as Spinner and Fasttrack had – had been. I thought, these ones I can at least help. These ones I can do some good for.” He laughed, quietly, self-deprecatingly, and it damn near tore Trailbreaker’s spark to shreds. “I was wrong.”

Smokescreen slid from the stool to the floor, knees up against his chest and arms curled around them, becoming as small as he could. “The therapist I went to called it a trauma reaction. Something close to what the humans call PTSD, brought on by prolonged exposure to too many things I couldn’t handle. I couldn’t take their noises, you see. I still can’t. All the clicks and whistles and calls they make to communicate, I just…” He shivered, tensing up even further and curling even more in on himself. “I can’t take it. Whenever I hear them, I’m right back there, trying to keep Spinner and Fasttrack alive. My frame still remembers. I get like…” He grinned mirthlessly, freeing one hand long enough to gesture to himself. “I get like this. I’m useless around sparklings, I just tense up and freak out. So.” He looked at Trailbreaker finally, his optics barely visible over the defensive shield his limbs had turned into. “I know I reacted horribly. I said some really nasty things to you. But I panicked, and I know that’s no excuse, but I’m telling you anyway. And I’m so sorry that I hurt you. You’re a friend, ‘Breaker, or you were, and…” He glanced at the bassinet. “I can’t be around him. I just can’t. I’m already freaking out at the thought of him waking up and making any kind of demand, make a noise that requires me to do something I just can’t do. It wouldn’t be fair to him to subject him to me like this, I wouldn’t be any good for him. I’m really sorry I treated you like that. But I hope you understand why, now.”

Trailbreaker had no words. Maybe he didn’t need them either. He stood, held out his hands for Smokescreen. After a moment, Smokescreen reached up and let Trailbreaker pull him to his feet.

And then Trailbreaker hugged him. As tight as he dared, as warmly as he could, trying to channel everything he felt, all the sadness and regret and shock and understanding.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, and Smokescreen melted in his arms. “It’s okay.”

They stood like that for a while, with Trailbreaker taking more than a little of Smokescreen’s weight. Smokescreen’s doorwings were low and trembling on his back, and he was clinging to Trailbreaker like he was the only thing holding him up, the only thing keeping him safe. Maybe that’s what it felt like to him.

Then there was a tiny little noise as Ambulon shifted in his bassinet, and Smokescreen tensed right back up.

“You should leave before he wakes up,” Trailbreaker whispered. He rested his forehead against Smokescreen’s. “I’m not going to tell you to be around him, or force him on you. But I want you to know, when he’s older and can talk, that if you want to get to know him, you can. I’m not going to keep him from you if you ever want to build a relation with him, as a friend or an uncle or whatever.”

Smokescreen snorted a small laugh. It was shaky and desperate, but it was at least a trace of mirth. “Uncle. Yeah, maybe. When he’s older.” He glanced at Ambulon again. “He really is beautiful, Trailbreaker. I’m happy for you and First Aid.”

“Thanks.” Trailbreaker looked at his sparkling, recognizing the small tell-tale signs that said he’d soon be awake and active. “Come on. He’ll be awake any moment.”

“Then that’s my cue.” Smokescreen straightened, put on a grin – and it really was putting on a grin, it was a mask, Trailbreaker could see that clear as day, but it was probably enough to let Smokescreen get away. “Thanks, Trailbreaker.”

“Nah, thank you, Smokey. Thanks for telling me.”

Smokescreen winked, and then he walked away.

Trailbreaker sat down heavily on the berth, focusing on nothing but venting. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

After a few minutes, he pinged First Aid. He didn’t want to be alone with this. He couldn’t imagine how Smokescreen had carried this weight by himself for so long.

At least he understood now. And when First Aid promised to come back right away, worry and care in his voice, Trailbreaker felt himself relax.

He didn’t blame Smokescreen. Not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recap: Smokescreen tells Trailbreaker about finding a pair of orphan sparklings early on in the war, and the struggle to keep them alive. He also describes how losing them has impacted him, and that he struggles to be around sparklings now because of the stress reactions that take over whenever he hears their noises. He apologizes to Trailbreaker for the way he's threated him, but says he hopes he understands why, now.
> 
> Smokey's trauma reactions are based to a certain degree on my own, though we have very different reasons, so be kind, please.


	26. Chapter 26

Ambulon was almost hard to hold on to. He was turning around constantly, staring at everything, chirping and twisting in Trailbreaker’s arms.

“Guess you’re excited to be out and about,” First Aid giggled. “Careful, bitlet, you’ll wiggle straight out of your carrier’s arms if you keep that up.”

Ambulon chirped again. He was still too young to understand their words, though that would come soon.

It was a good day to take Ambulon on his first public outing. They weren’t going far, just to the rec room, but that was plenty far enough. Even for that short walk, First Aid was carrying a bag full of toys, mesh cloths, and the thick pad they could put on the table in case Ambulon didn’t want to be held anymore. It seemed a lot of luggage for one sparkling, but Trailbreaker was quickly learning that sparklings came with a lot of inventory.

The rec room wasn’t crowded when they walked in. Blades and Hot Spot was sitting at one table, Perceptor and Fireflight at another, and Skyfire was in the back with three empty cubes in front of him. At the other end of the room, a gaggle of minibots were playing a game that seemed to involve a lot of shouting and laughing and throwing cards at each other.

Ambulon squealed when he spotted Hot Spot and Blades and bounced a bit harder in Trailbreaker’s arms. “Yeah, look, it’s your uncles,” Trailbreaker laughed. “Now hold still, you little gremlin, or you really might fall.”

“Oh my goodness!” Fireflight was squealing almost as loud as Ambulon was. “He’s here!”

Trailbreaker sat down at the biggest table, right in the middle of the room. “Hey, Fireflight. You want to come meet him?”

“Can I?” Fireflight came closer with a kind of hesitance Trailbreaker recognized, the same that Groove had shown when they’d brought Ambulon over to meet the rest of the Protectobots for the first time. It was a mix of ‘really wanting to come closer’ and ‘kind of worried I’m not supposed to’, and it was reassuring to see. “He’s so tiny.”

“Of course you can,” Trailbreaker replied. He turned a bit so Ambulon could see the young flier. “This is Ambulon.”

“I haven’t seen a sparkling in a very long time.” Perceptor sounded almost awed. “Trailbreaker, do you mind if we sit with you?”

“Of course not. Honestly, you should come over right away.” He smiled as Ambulon giggled and reached for Fireflight. “I expect we’ll be swamped as soon as everyone realizes we’re here.”

“I expect you’re right.” Perceptor smiled walked over to Fireflight, now hesitantly cradling Ambulon – with some help from First Aid. “Hello, Ambulon. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“He’s so cute,” Fireflight whispered. “He’s so cute, Percy, I think I’m in love.”

“Sparklings are precious,” Perceptor agreed. He put one hand on Fireflight’s shoulder. “I’m glad to see one again.”

First Aid let go of Fireflight’s arms and sat back down. He leaned over to whisper in Trailbreaker’s audial. “I don’t think we’ll be lacking for babysitters.”

Trailbreaker grinned. He didn’t think so either.

Trailbreaker had thought he’d be fairly okay with watching Ambulon being handed from mech to mech. Amb was happy, chirping and beeping at every new face, but Trailbreaker was turning into a nervous wreck. Not that he really thought anyone would hurt Ambulon, or drop him, or hold him wrong and pinch him, or anything like that. It was just, he couldn’t relax. He kept hovering around whoever was holding Ambulon, or stare at them if he wasn’t close enough to hover.

Finally, Silverbolt took pity on him and handed Ambulon over. “Here, bitlet. I think your carrier needs you back.” The comment came with a small smile. “I remember Sparkplug explaining about human sparklings, and how protective their parents get. And Ratchet said the twins are already fiercely protective, so… Plus, you look nervous.”

“I don’t mean to be.” Trailbreaker cuddled Ambulon close, nuzzling his helm. “It’s just… It’s scary to let him go.”

Blaster laughed. “’Course it is. Those instincts’ll keep you on your toes for a while yet, mech. Don’t worry about it.” He tickled Ambulon’s back. “He sure is a cute one.”

First Aid appeared at Trailbreaker’s elbow. “You need a break, love?”

“Maybe.” He glanced down at Ambulon. His tiny optics were dimming. “It looks like someone’s getting ready for a nap.” It was mainly an excuse, because Ambulon recharged quite comfortably regardless of noise and position, but First Aid was right. Trailbreaker needed a break. But he also enjoyed actually being out of his quarters for more than a half-hour. “Do we have to go back to ours?”

First Aid made a show of considering. Trailbreaker loved that Aid knew him that well. “No, I think we’ll be fine here. We can take the corner table while he naps, that should give us some peace and quiet.”

That sounded good. Trailbreaker could work with that.

Especially since First Aid sat down right next to him, scooting as close as he could, and put his head on Trailbreaker’s shoulder. “You’re doing so well.”

Trailbreaker chuckled, quietly so he wouldn’t disturb Ambulon. “I’m freaking out a bit.”

“I am, too. He’s tiny, and we only just got him.” First Aid’s fingers rested briefly on Ambulon’s back. “I don’t even want to know how far I’d go to protect him. I suspect it’s almost as far as possible, and even then some.”

“Yeah.” Trailbreaker leaned his head against First Aid’s. “I know what you mean. I feel that way about both of you.”

“Me too, huh? That’s good.” First Aid’s visor brightened as he smiled. “I’m glad.”

It was quieter there in the corner. Every now and then somebody would come over, say hi. Quietly congratulate them and gush over how cute Ambulon was before walking away again. It was nice, being part of the crowd like that and still have some peace. Trailbreaker watched as people came and went, mingling and chatting and laughing. He was struck with a sudden sense of family, of belonging, even bigger than the little core that was himself and First Aid and Ambulon.

It was all good.

At some point Smokescreen walked in, customary smile on his face as he looked around. He noticed Trailbreaker and First Aid, and gave them a nod.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” First Aid said.

“I think he wants to be,” Trailbreaker replied honestly. “And I think he’s going to have to learn how. This base will be full of sparklings soon.”

“I actually talked to Ratchet about that.” First Aid’s voice was soft enough that Trailbreaker was sure he was the only one who could hear it. “Smokescreen’s going to learn how to cope, or this will be really stressful for him. He needs to talk to someone, work through what happened.”

Smokescreen sat down with Sideswipe and Blaster. It wasn’t one of the closest tables to where Trailbreaker and First Aid were, but it wasn’t far enough away that it looked like he was avoiding them. He sat with his back to them, though, doorwings angled in a way Trailbreaker recognized from Prowl when he was working. Smokescreen was alert and on guard.

“I hope he does.” Trailbreaker looked down at Ambulon, still recharging in his arms. “I can’t imagine going through what he went through.” Just the thought of losing Ambulon like that… No. He wouldn’t even consider it.

First Aid was right. There was really nothing he wouldn’t do to protect Ambulon.

“Me either.”

Trailbreaker didn’t let himself continue that path. It was way too easy to get caught up in ‘what if’s and make tentative plans for any disaster scenario. “How did you charm me so completely so soon, baby?” he whispered. “Is it a sparkling superpower?”

“Probably. He’s certainly got the charm for it,” First Aid said, still in that quiet timbre. “Hey, do you regret anything? If you had known what everything led to, would you have done the same things?”

“Regret? No.” Trailbreaker shook his head, and leaned closer to First Aid. Inasmuch as that was even possible, anyway. “I wouldn’t have done anything differently. I mean, look at this. I got you. And I got him.” He shifted Ambulon slightly, so they were both as close to First Aid as possible. “I wouldn’t have changed anything at all. But I am scared.”

“Scared?” First Aid sounded confused. “Why are you scared?”

“Because nothing’s really different.” Trailbreaker shrugged, as much as he could without disturbing Ambulon. “All the reasons I had for thinking about giving him up, when I learned I was carrying and had to make a decision… They’re still valid. We’re still at war. Optimus is going to be short on soldiers because of this.” He sighed. “And I’m scared that something will happen to either one of you because of where we’re at and what we’re fighting. I wish I knew what this means for the future.”

“It means hope,” First Aid said simply. “And to be honest, Trailbreaker, if this was the wrong decision you wouldn’t have this many mecha following in your footsteps right now. You wouldn’t have seen Wheeljack carrying –“

Trailbreaker snorted. “Don’t be too sure of that. Wheeljack is even more unpredictable than the twins, and Bluestreak is just as bad in his own way.”

“Yeah, okay.” First Aid grinned, visor brightening. “I’ll give you that one. But you would definitely not have seen Ratchet carrying. You wouldn’t have Optimus Prime himself being a sire. And I bet there will be more. It’s bound to keep rubbing off.” He put a finger on Ambulon’s small helm, stroking gently. “If it was wrong, mecha wouldn’t have been doing this. I think what we’re seeing now is a way forward. And yes, we’re at war, but if we keep being at war and never do anything else, never be anything but soldiers, it’s going to end in mutual destruction. At some point the Decepticons will kill some of ours and we’ll kill some of theirs and before you know it, we won’t have anyone left.” He smiled again, fingers resting on Ambulon’s plating. “It’s better we make a life out of it than to just keep fighting for nothing but memories.”

Ambulon twitched. His tiny face scrunched up before his optics brightened slowly. Trailbreaker knew well enough by now that that would mean calls for fuel in a few moments.

“I’m glad he’s here,” First Aid murmured. “I’m happy you chose me.” He giggled. “I’m really happy that I dared to approach you in the first place. I almost didn’t. And look what I would have missed out on.” He turned his head just enough to nuzzle Trailbreaker’s cheek. “I can’t imagine life without either of you at this point.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re planning to stick around.” Trailbreaker grinned as Ambulon opened his mouth, letting out the expected squeal that usually followed a nap. First Aid already had his feeding tube ready. “You hungry, baby? Don’t worry, sire’s got you.”

He slid the sparkling into First Aid’s arms, watching as Ambulon latched on to the feeding nub.

“You’re going to keep us on our toes, aren’t you?” First Aid cooed. Ambulon gazed up at him with wide optics. “Yeah, you are. You and the rest of them, you’re going to have the run of the base. You’re going to keep everyone busy. And everyone will look after you, and take care of you, and love you, and life will be good.” He kissed Ambulon’s head again. “I promise you that, baby. Life will be good.”

Somehow, Trailbreaker reflected, it already was.

E N D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it :) Thank you so much for following this fic, readers! I'm beyond thrilled at the support and attention this has gotten :)
> 
> Of course, I can't leave it there. There's a sequel of ficlets coming up next week :D It'll post on Mondays and Thursdays, if I can manage. As we speak there are nine chapters, but that might change. So keep an eye out for it!


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